I rather appear to be sat at my desk, not on a train to Manchester. Decided over the weekend that I wasn't going to go. For some reason people appear to think that gave them the right to mutter under their breath or tell me I'll regret it, like my decisions have any bearing on their lives. The way I see it is, this time last week I knew nothing about the job. I don't want to move to Manchester this year. It doesn't pay very well, certainIy not enough to warrant moving somewhere that costs a hell of a lot more than what I'm used to. I couldn't give a shit about 'interview experience', especially if it means getting up at 5.30am and travelling to Manchester and back just to get it. If I had been offered it, I would have rejected it, a waste of time for both me and the interviers. Likewise, if I didnt get it, I wouldnt have minded. Therefore, other than this 'interview experience' people get so orgasmic about, what was the point in going? I feel better off not knowing either way and I wish some people could get their heads around that.
Anyway, it's all rather kicking off here at work anyway. They've blocked the student record of the guy that has been charged with murdering the Hull student so I can't snoop at that, more's the pity. I've been given the task of going through a list of a billion people and finding out where they live. Not so fun. There's still a horrible atmosphere of disbelief here. Nothing like that has ever happened in our halls. It's so sad. I know someone who was friends with her and it brings it home how far the effect of something like this can spread.
A parent of someone at the halls has just rang. She'd like to send a letter in to thank those who have made such a good job of looking after her son and everyone else at the hall over the weekend. I can't imagine what it must be like living there at the moment.
And to top it off, it's about to rain.
I spent most of the weekend in a hightened state of inertia. Got back from a meal on Saturday night, and didn't leave the flat again until I came into work this morning. I did, however, get through half of Order of the Phoenix, changing position on the sofa every half an hour to avoid sores. Couldn't sleep for two reasons: a) I had been immobile for the better part of 48 hours and I had twitchy legs, and b) the Gibraltan boy downstairs was 'singing' in a traditional manner. Nice.
But, I do have a chocolate digestive, yum yum.
