It appears the prophecy of my last blog came true…Sebastian is back, and he is angry! With the weather being so nice I decided it was time to get some fresh air. I lay on the grass at ‘Liverpool One’ among the chavs and kids, soaking in some rays; I was out for just over an, but I am still feeling the punishment today (Wednesday); it is not so much it hurts, I am just VERY VERY red. My added level of redness caused even stranger looks in the office, and someone even offered me a bottle of aftersun. One man asked me if I was about to cry, or just really red. I have found common ground with my new friend Elaine, the two of us share the same pasty skin and can share tales of red.
On Sunday night I embraced the inevitability and decided I would have to wash my clothes; the long job of hunting down your dirty clothing in the missmatch of clean is not one I enjoy. On my hands and knees I crawled around looking for those most elusive socks.No matter how many 3 pack of socks I buy from Tesco for £1, they always vanish in days; like a game of hide and seek they had hidden themselves in the legs of my jeans, in the pockets of my suitcase, and one had escaped as far as the windowsill. I wish I could still pull of ‘Totes,‘ there was no way you could lose those massive thick socks! I then had to drag a small wardrobe of laundry into the lift, down the stairs, and to the laundry room, this was where the waiting game began. Like a yo-yo I bounced up and down between the 9 floors: putting it in the machine (wait 48 mins), put it in the dryer (wait 38 mins), then drag it all back upstairs. Exhausted and burnt I settled in to my nicely toasted pyjamas and waited for the week ahead.
Hats off to my tutor Kate Watkins, when she gets it right…she gets it right. I am LOVING my work placement, I laugh and joke with people in the office,I get called Supertom, and someone once called me Chickadee; I don’t know what a Chickadee is, but I like the sound of it. Today I slapped on my high heels, permed my hair, and searched for the perfect cosmo; I was rather worried about my sexual orientation when I was assigned to do a feature on ‘Sex and the City 2,’ immediately I thought it was important to state that I don’t watch it, I said this to the newsteam and everyone I interviewed in the day. I put on a manly voice, and tried to ask manly questions in a desperate attempt to retain some of my testosterone, but at least It gave me an excuse to get out of the office and try something new. When I saw an article about a Sex and the City cocktail and my eyes lit up, a possible free drink in the middle of the day, how could I resist; I grabbed the phone and the cocktail bar was the first place I rang, I wasn’t giving up without a cosmo. Another plus was interviewing a rather attractive fashion stylist on an event she was hosting. I nearly gave a little wink as she asked the other people to leave the room, but I thought this would be unprofessional of me, being drunk and lude on the same day is not the aim of my work experience. I spent the rest of the afternoon editing the sound of ‘Sex and the City‘ over my voice in quite possibly the gayest package I have ever recorded, if I hear that music one more time I may hurl a Jimmy Choo at someone (see, I’m even picking up the language aaaaarrrgh) I know that ‘Sex and the City‘ is a big deal, but it just doesn’t appeal to me. Randy, middle aged women are available for free most Chester evenings, without the £7 cinema pricetag. That is so Samantha of me!
I came home to Abbey’s flat to a problem with my pipes. As I entered the kitchen I heard the echoing drip drip of water from the ceiling; I looked up as water poured from the light and pooled on the floor, I know I need a shower, but the kitchen isn’t the best place to do it. A drip hit me on the head and I prayed that it was not sewage above me! An hour later and I am still waiting for the emergency call out team to come, look at it, shake their head, then leave me to clean up the mess; good job I havn’t been stabbed or I would be long dead by now. My main concern is that in the middle of the night the ceiling will fall down, I imagine it groaning, then collapsing with an ocean of water, plunging the entire kitchen 9 stories down. I am too lazy to get the mop out, so at the moment the kitchen is out of bounds; I will leave it until later, or I become used to the idea of an indoor water feature, my only other plans for the evening are Junior Apprentice. What would I rather, watch mini Alan Sugars throw money down the drain, or do a few laps in the kitchen? It is at this point a Kayak would come in handy, as I am half considering buying one for use on the canal over summer. ASDA are selling 2 man ones for £60, hint hint hint. Have a good night, and If you don’t hear from me I have drowned from lack of armbands, if I was Aquaman I wouldn’t have this problem.