Curse number one - The curse of My Daughters Class.

In all of her school life so far, from reception to the last year before entering the juniours, Sarah has been in the same class of 30 kids. On going up into Junior school the class was split up and mixed around. Jo said to me earlier that out of the oringinal 30 kids parents, 7 couples that she knows of have split up! That seems rather a high number for one class. Above average almost. Hmmmmmmmmmmm.

Curse number Two - "504 gateway time out error" curse.

Oh for FUCKS SAKE!

Hardly any blogging for me tonight. Again.

Much as I thank each and every one of you for it.

My interview was not delayed too much, and I have been catching up reading blogs since then, well after coming back from a post interview visit to the pub to read the new Guitarist Magazine that is.

I have been telling various people in the office to fuck off, in a friendly way of course, when they have been making comments about the fact that I am in a shirt and a pair of trousers, but that is to be expected.

The problem is that normal trousers don't have enough pockets in them. I am used to fatigues now with the pockets on the thighs. Much more storage space, so I have had to stash my ciggies, phone, lighter and keys in the "normal" pockets of the trousers. Which makes them bulge in flattering/embarrasing places!

Luckily I thought ahead and removed all the gubbins from the pockets and put them in my jacket. Didn't want to walk into the interview looking like I had a semi! It could have given the wrong impression.

Mind you, the other girl from HR asking the questions IS a hottie.......

Nah, behave you old tart.

I think that went far too well.

When I came out, one of the managers here said "Well done"

"Eh?"

"Well we heard you made them laugh"

"Oh is that good?"

I was in there for a scant 40 mins. Mind you the guy before me was only in there for 25.

Glasgow Steve was in there for 50! and he said he would be out in 10.

Anyway its over.

I can now roll up my sleaves and scratch my bollocks in comfort. No more pretending to be something I'm not.

The boss woman. Head of the section. The one everyone thinks is a bit crap but still mysteriously got her job back. She is sitting in on the interviews.

They have just started. Half an hour late. Because she cares so much she apparently cant work a fucking alarm clock and get up early to take into account the time a journey into central london takes.

Oh well.

I am not, for once in a t-shirt and fatigues. No I am in a shirt and a pair of trousers.

Fuck.

But the shirt is black and is going to remain tie free, and the trousers are dark blue and cost me nothing - made work buy them for me years ago.

Black and blue, I look like a big bruise.

Well that is the sum total of the effort I am making for this poxy interview. One possible job between six of us, which could possibly be in a part of the country we cant get to. So we wont be able to take it.

My date with destiny or whatever is at 11.00, I should be out by 12.00 just in time to go fume over the pub.

I am still in an odd mood after yesterday but I will try to act my way round that in the interview but there will come a point, after one more stupid question and one more answer that sticks in my throught due to its high bullshit content, where I might be tempted to do just think "bollocks to this, lets have some fun"

You know the bit where they say, "do you have any questions?" I often want to say

"Yes, if you were travelling in a car at light speed and you turned the headlights on, what would happen?"

"I don't know"

"Then forget it, I don't want to work for you"