So Goddamn Tired...

So, to recap. I got up this morning at 7am (on absolutely zilch hours sleep because Life Hates Me and my insomnia is playing up again), in order to take first the train and then the tube to Kingston, beause I had an interview for a job there. What job? I still don't know. It's one of those weird multinational companies who just want generic staff. The problem was, they wanted my CV, and I had no more copies. So yesterday I traipsed around for ages trying to find a Internet caf with a printer. Now, problem number two, I needed to dress neatly. Not just neatly, but neatly, as in a suit.

Do I need to mention that Skull Bearer has never worn a suit in her life? Thought not. So cobbled together a shirt (which I had to iron, and guess who has never ironed a shirt before? No prizes), a pair of neat trousers, and, since I didn't have any neat shoes, my doc martins (useful note, if you wear docs and pull your trouser legs over them, they look kinda like neat shoes). Problem number three, I haven't worn my docs since last year. My heels are one big blister.

Anyway, I got to the interview, and you know what? I think I made a good impression. I was neat, I was polite, I answered most of the questions well, and though the whole bloody procedure took three hours, I was patient.

I then went back to London, and bought the best anti-blister plasters I could find. I kiss the boots of whoever invented them.

And then, since I was feeling restless, and was in Waterloo. I put my hat one, tucked my trousers intop my boots in true army style, and decided to pay the Imperial War Museum another visit- without the psychic problem this time. So, more walking, although it didn't hurt so much. The Imperial War Museum has a very scary bit about nuclear weapons and the whole Cuban missile crisis (in other words, how the world only just avoided being blown up), between the booklets and the various 'procedures' explained for surviving a nuclear attack... brrr, even Lovecraft isn't that scary (because mad things with tentacles have one redeeming feature: they don't exist). They also apparently sell the book 'When the Wind Blows' by Raymond Briggs, the problem is, they sell it in the kid's section, so when I got there, the shop was closed (not just that, but... 'When the Wind Blows'? A kid's book? I sure as hell wouldn't let any of my kids near it).

Then I went home, only I got off the tube a bit early, because guess who wanted to do a bit more walking?

My feet hurt.

So Goddamn Tired...

So, to recap. I got up this morning at 7am (on absolutely zilch hours sleep because Life Hates Me and my insomnia is playing up again), in order to take first the train and then the tube to Kingston, beause I had an interview for a job there. What job? I still don't know. It's one of those weird multinational companies who just want generic staff. The problem was, they wanted my CV, and I had no more copies. So yesterday I traipsed around for ages trying to find a Internet caf with a printer. Now, problem number two, I needed to dress neatly. Not just neatly, but neatly, as in a suit.

Do I need to mention that Skull Bearer has never worn a suit in her life? Thought not. So cobbled together a shirt (which I had to iron, and guess who has never ironed a shirt before? No prizes), a pair of neat trousers, and, since I didn't have any neat shoes, my doc martins (useful note, if you wear docs and pull your trouser legs over them, they look kinda like neat shoes). Problem number three, I haven't worn my docs since last year. My heels are one big blister.

Anyway, I got to the interview, and you know what? I think I made a good impression. I was neat, I was polite, I answered most of the questions well, and though the whole bloody procedure took three hours, I was patient.

I then went back to London, and bought the best anti-blister plasters I could find. I kiss the boots of whoever invented them.

And then, since I was feeling restless, and was in Waterloo. I put my hat one, tucked my trousers intop my boots in true army style, and decided to pay the Imperial War Museum another visit- without the psychic problem this time. So, more walking, although it didn't hurt so much. The Imperial War Museum has a very scary bit about nuclear weapons and the whole Cuban missile crisis (in other words, how the world only just avoided being blown up), between the booklets and the various 'procedures' explained for surviving a nuclear attack... brrr, even Lovecraft isn't that scary (because mad things with tentacles have one redeeming feature: they don't exist). They also apparently sell the book 'When the Wind Blows' by Raymond Briggs, the problem is, they sell it in the kid's section, so when I got there, the shop was closed (not just that, but... 'When the Wind Blows'? A kid's book? I sure as hell wouldn't let any of my kids near it).

Then I went home, only I got off the tube a bit early, because guess who wanted to do a bit more walking?

My feet hurt.