Runes and Rhinestones

I'm a modern day Viking, navigating my way through a stormy sea of stuff.

Guess who’s back?

on April 17, 2013

I applied for my first graduate job a little while ago. I also got rejected from my first graduate job. Twice. Very lovely and polite emails, but I’m fairly sure I got the message with the first one, thanks muchly. Now that’s off the table, and I’m thinking about other things to do with my life. I’d quite like a job with English Heritage or somewhere like that, but that remains a dream for the moment. A real difficulty is the fact that I don’t know what I want to do, I only know what I don’t want to do. I really don’t want to move to London, even though most of the jobs are there.

I’ve just applied for a job at a pub again, because you never know. It’s part time, they might take me on and it would be good to at least be doing something to earn a little bit again. It would be possible to fit it around my studies as well, and if I’m good enough maybe they’ll make me full time. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Hairy and I have had a lovely few days since I came back from Cardiff, despite having the mother of all rows just before I left. It was horrendous, particularly as I was hungover and trying really hard not to just go and hug the toilet and hope it would all go away. We’ve figured out a few things that hopefully will mean even longer until we next fall out – when period, drunkenness, lack of food and going away all combine, bad things happen. Rule to abide by – on ‘How I Met Your Mother’, they say that nothing good ever happens after 2am. I agree, but we’ve modified it for us. For us, (apart from making sure I’ve actually eaten before going out), is NEVER GO TO THE FOLLOW ON. You know when you’re out at the pub, and it’s great and you’re having a brilliant time and you don’t want it to end so you end up going somewhere else (read the late opening bars or someone’s house)? Yeah, it always fails and we have most of our arguments when one or either of us is drunk after one of those nights. Anyway, we texted and met for lunch, but because it was all so quick I felt pretty awful all weekend. Also, word of advice. Seriously don’t attempt eight hours of travel when you’re hungover to high hell. I got to Paddington station in a bit of a blur and then went and got myself a carton of orange juice, an apple, orange and banana and a salad. I looked like a health weirdo, but I desperately needed fresh things!

I had a lovely little adventure in Paddington station, involving money and public toilets. I arrived, dehydrated and feeling rotten and got myself food. After that, I figured that a trip to the toilet would probably be a good plan as I wasn’t going to be leaving the station again for another three and a bit hours. I discovered that I had to pay 30p for the privilege of using (rather sub-par) loos in the station, but shock horror! No 10p and it only accepted 20p and 10p! What to do? Well, I pottered back into the supermarket, and picked up a pack of hair grips – been meaning to try new things with my hair before interviews and things, and it wasn’t expensive. Should have got my 10p then – nope, only 20p coins and I already had one of those! Text Hairy, let him know that the universe hates me and doesn’t want me to pee. He laughs at me. I amble over to the Boots after checking to see if I could see any more toilets. Nope, no luck. Gaze rather dimly at the displays, think about a hair clip because I’ve been meaning to buy one but never got around to it. Stroke of genius! A box of painkillers! Yay! Brilliant, cheap and practical. I pay, and get back a ream of tuppences. Bugger. In the end I give up and trog down to the toilets, only to discover a coin changing machine. Face, meet wall.

And before the whole public loo fiasco, because Hairy asked and I’m lovely, I took this photo:

Image

Hairy has a thing about bears. I didn’t get a chance to take a photo of the statue because there were always people sat around it, but this was right next to the shop that only sold Paddington bears. Brilliant, right?

Cardiff was good, if somewhat damp. It rained ALL weekend. Arrived late Friday, spent the time before collapsing into bed doing the clothes swap (Sister mine came out worst – I’ve been wearing the new stuff I got since I came home and I’ve still got about a week’s worth of stuff to get through), and popping my cousin into the ball gowns to see which she should wear for the ball this Friday. I’ve come out with some lovely things, some of which might see me through the interviews. I think I still need a jacket and a haircut, but I’ve got a pencil skirt, shift dress and several blouses and now some really lovely tops that look slightly less formal but still good enough for an interview.

Saturday we went shopping for the essentials to go with the dress, watched some truly terrifying (but fascinating TV) and the Hobbit. HA! I was overly excited about that 😀 I ended up sharing the bed with Sister mine, despite the fact that I’m awful to share with – both of them have had to in the past, and I think would really rather never do it again! Luckily I got away without getting punched in the face, although it was one of the worst weekends for sleep I can remember.

Sunday was a giant fry up with fresh bread (seriously amazing), then a few episodes of  “Don’t tell the bride” – not something I would ever choose to watch on my own but I did spend the entire time going “Are they SERIOUSLY doing that?!” And then another eight hours travelling. We left at 13.45, I got home about 21.45 and that was only because I managed to get an early train and “bullied” into getting a taxi home. To be fair, I was carrying a bag that felt like it weighed the same as a small child.

I’m reading for an essay that I’m doing, although I’ve just had the wonderful discovery that I don’t have to hand it in for another month, rather than thinking the deadline was on 1st May and aiming to get it done for then. I’m still aiming for that deadline, but it’s just nice to have a bit more breathing room to get things done.

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