1) You don't have to go to work and you still get paid. Result.
2) You don't have to get out of bed at 8.30am, or even at all if you don't really feel like it. Double result.
3) You can delegate work that you REALLY don't want to do to someone else and cancel all meetings that you don't want to go to. Nice.
4) You can get a full reading stint into your day without having your elbows wedged into your ribs by other commuters or losing your page when you have to change trains etc. Now you're talking.
Etc, etc...
But, there are NO advantages to being ill on a Saturday. None whatsoever. Instead of missing out on work, you miss out on fun with friends; you wouldn't have got out of bed until 2.30pm anyway if you didn't feel like it; and if you felt like reading a book then you would have done it in the sun on your balcony with a glass of wine, rather then sitting in your bed with a banging headache.
No. Nothing good about being ill on a Saturday. Except, perhaps, that it seems to finally be the catalyst to start me writing my blog for the first time in over a year...
So here I am. Back. No taller, a bit snottier (that's just temporary though), and ready once again to throw some pointless mini tales at you.
I don't know why I haven't written for so long. But let's not dwell on the past eh? The past year can easily be summed up in one paragraph (poor grammar allowing):
After a brief stint at ShortList, I took a temping job while I attempted to save up enough funds to move off Michelle's sofa. This job made me want to poke my eyes out with crab sticks (I really struggle to form any kind of bond with people who work in complete silence, wear a rubber thimble on their finger for increased ease in flicking through papers, and fold over the end of the selotape after use so it can be readily relocated on next use) so after a few weeks, I left and turned to earning a living by teaching unsuccessful men how to pick up women and maintain relationships, and became a freelance ghost writer about relationships/men/women for the owner of the company. I then somehow managed to land an amazing job with a major film studio, so I crammed in a quick tour of Ibiza and Croatia and started there just over a year ago. Since then I've also: bought a beautiful flat with my sisters in London, flown to Germany for 10 minutes, grown a tomato plant, had a quick fling in Morocco, frozen my bum of in Paris, learnt how to make a lasagne from scratch, visited the sisters of Lane in South Africa, got a tattoo, dated an array of completely unsuitable men, eaten a lot of cheese, got totally engrossed in the world cup, slightly increased my spice tolerance, lost my oyster card 365 times (at least) and dyed my hair red.
So there you go, that's it really. I realise it's pretty shocking to some of you that I not only have a real job (if you can call it a real job when I regularly get paid to watch films) but have been there for over a year. But don't worry, that shocks me too. And just because I can no longer write about retreating to the shower room for quick nap during the working day or turning up at work an hour late with a pillow under my arm, smelling like festivals etc, doesn't mean I've changed. I just have to be a little bit sensible about what I include in my blog now, that's all...
