An Up-date

I left Surbiton a day earlier than planned today; my boyfriend and I seemed to be at breaking point and I took the initiative to give ourselves a bit of space before it all boiled over. I'm not sure my boyfriend has even noticed my absence, but anyway...bitch fit is over.

Upon arriving home, I took myself straight into the town centre with the intention to buy food for this evening's dinner. As soon as I entered the Arndale Centre, I felt as though I had been thrown unceremoniously into a loony-bin. I passed one woman with three children hanging around her ankles (yes, hanging), while she screamed obscenities at them. I was then approached by a man who was trying to convince me he needed ten pounds for a sausage roll from Greggs. Hmmm.

After my delightful visit to town, I was soon heading home, eager to see my brothers who both happened to have a day off. I arrived home with treats for both; two sausage rolls and two jam doughnuts received a very warm reception and they were consumed within seconds.

A few hours after my return, my sister made a visit with her newly acquired puppy, Rudy. I was ecstatic. I am your typical giddy female, whose knees go weak at the sight of a tiny bundle of fur, happy to receive my affection.

Isn't he an absolute cutie? I insisted on carrying him around like a small child and cooing in-cohesive noises incessantly into his tiny ears.

Tomorrow I start my shift back at Pizza Express, and I cannot wait. I think it's been a whole week (perhaps longer, actually) before I've worked there and I miss the buzz of running around after tables, adrenaline pumping and tips building before my eyes. I received two lovely texts from two of my favourites at work, both telling me how much they missed me *head goes big with appreciation* and I realised I couldn't wait to go back. This will be short-lived, I'm sure. All those I have worked with will vouch for the fact that within minutes of serving, I'm back at the dessert area bitching about the customers and generally complaining about the job.

After a catch-up weekend with Pizza Express, I start my second placement in Richmond. Having interviewed for a job role, as well as a paid placement with a different PR company, that for morality reasons I won't mention by name, I am balancing between the two companies, with a fairly certain idea of which I would rather work for.

Lucre, the company for which I begin work for on Tuesday, is a consumer based PR company, with offices based in Richmond and Leeds. Just from the image on their website, you can get a feel for the type of PR company they are.

The clients for which Lucre have worked with include Russell Hobbs, The Disney Store, Revolution and Jet2.com (apparently only people that live up north have heard of this airline, and being a southerner I can vouch for this).

The girl who interviewed me for the placement has been lovely, and has stayed in touch with me over the weeks via e-mail to let me know of the goings-ons within the latest company clients and keeping me up-to-date, so that I don't feel totally oblivious when I start. I have also been ordered a laptop and a telephone, and I will be working in a mini office in an open-plan space; to give the impression of working individually, without being cut off from the rest of the office.

I've also got the benefit of being able to plan my outfit, because having been to an interview already, I have seen the office attire. I am pleased to tell you that the ladies all wore skirts and shirts, or something relative to that, as well as wearing smart shoes. Yes!

It's nine o'clock now. I last saw my boyfriend at eight o'clock this morning and I miss him terribly. I'm dreading going to sleep alone already, so I'll be putting off bed-time for quite some time. Over the last few weeks, we have been going to bed at around half nine in the evening, exhaustion and the general desire to cuddle up together taking over fairly earlier than usual.

I'll be returning to my boyfriend's with yet more clothes and books, as this placement lasts six weeks and I'm beginning to tire of living without all of my possessions. Jaimin says he'll get me a book-case.

I might even try to sneak in my rug and scatter cushions from my bedroom back home.

And Rudy can hide in my bag until I proudly announce to the house that we have a new pet.

Lonely Train Home

No text.
No phone-call.
Nothing.

The shirts keep spinning.
Round and round.

The clock keeps ticking.
Tick. Tock. Tick.

Tock.

The rumbling stops.
The shirts drip drop.

Drip. Drop.

I hang his shirts on the line; my final chore.

Train is due to leave at half past ten.

Door slams. Feet scurry up the garden path. Gate clings shut behind me.

The train is half-empty.

I rest my head on the cool of the glass. The sun shines bright.

Still no text.

Still no phone-call.

Still nothing.

An Unfortunate Coincidence

After much sulking and complaining, I couldn't quite help buying the much-discussed 'Never Let Me Go' when I saw it nestled among the other books on the shelf.

Never Let Me Go, just in case you haven't heard of it, is a major motion picture, released in the Cinema a few months ago.

The genre is a hybrid between romance and speculative fiction, two of my favourite genres to read and to write.

'Masterly...A novel with piercing questions about humanity and humaneness' says the Sunday Times.

'A page-turner and a heartbreaker, a tour de force of knotted tension and buried anguish' says Time.

It has been shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize.

The author, Kazuo Ishiguro, is Japenese. His writing style is simple; his use of short sentences is effective and makes for easy reading.

Regardless of my opinion on the author's writing style, the book itself has been a huge success since it was reverted into a film, directed from the screenplay written by Alex Garland, author of 'The Beach', not long ago.

My only issue is that Kazuo Ishiguro got there first.

I had been writing a very similar story-line for my final year dissertation, and I was told it was a very 'promising' idea. Having discarded the idea for something else for my assignment, it stayed undeveloped for quite some time before I continued writing.

I learnt of the unfortunate coincidence of similarity between my story and Kazuo's through a friend on Facebook, who posted a link to it on my wall. To say I was gutted would be an understatement and when I tell you the storyline is literally the same it is no exaggeration. The only difference between the two, is that mine lacks a love-story. Go Kazuo.

I'm not suggesting that I should have been the only person brilliant enough to think up such a storyline, and I'm not suggesting that I could have had it published had I submitted it. Kuzuo's version has been out for quite some time, and I was unfortunate enough to believe I had touched upon a subject that had never before been written about.

I am saying, however, that with the right tools and guidance, had I managed to get it published, I'd be in a much better position that I am now.

I won't elaborate on the details of the book, as I wouldn't want to spoil it for those who haven't read the book or seen the film.

What I will say, however, is that I'll be nursing the wound of Kazuo's success for a very long time.

Settling in and Charity Shops

After considerable gentle probing on my part, my boyfriend finally ordered furniture for his room. He was content with his little walk-in cupboard, barely the size of a coat closet, but after taking in the heaps of clothes and books that were piling up in the corner of his room, he agreed to buy me a wardrobe. I was slowly getting closer to moving in, even if he wasn't aware of it at the time.

When the furniture arrived, I was like a child again, giddy for a much-awaited new toy. I filled the wardrobe with my clothes and shoes, and neatly folded both mine and Jaimin's T-shirts and underwear into a seperate chest of drawers.

The next day, having passed a family-run charity shop on my way to and from work, I decided to step inside and take a look around. Initially, I was going to buy a few books. I walked out of there an hour later, my arms filled with three books, a beautifully patterned throw for Jaimin's sofa, a vintage dress, a paisely printed scarf, four men's ties (for Jaimin), a casual waist-coat, a dark-brown, oak mirror, and a reading lamp, my purse only twenty-pounds lighter. I had to refrain from buying a rug and scatter cushions; although they were beautiful, I reminded myself that it was Jaimin's room and it would have been unkind to revert it into a feminine bedroom.

I absolutelty love charity-shops. I like the comfort of being able to sit and pore through books without being under the watchful eye of a shop-owner trying to sell you something. I like the idea of acquiring something that belonged to somebody else, and seeing the treasure in what may have been somebody else's junk.

The dress I bought was a vintage design; I intend to wear it to my Cousin's wedding next weekend. As soon as I tried it on, I saw the approval gleaming in Jaimin's eyes and it was a very nice fit on my frame. It only cost me £3 and I can pretty much guarentee nobody else will be wearing it, with it being vintage. Except perhaps somebody's Grandma...somebody's ultra-stylish Grandma that is.

Later that day, I hung Jaimin's mirror on the wall and placed the lamp stylishly beside his bed, next to the flowers I was bought from work. I added my new books to the growing pile on the window-sill. I was satisfied that I had finally left my mark on the bedroom. I haven't gotten around to getting a blown up photograph of myself to hang on his wall above the bed just yet, so I figured the mirror and the lamp was a good starting point.

Anybody that knows me will know that last sentence is said in jest.

The photo was the first thing I put in his room.

The Caterham Seven: A Short History (My final press release written for Performance PR)

Colin Chapman, the toast of British Racing in 1957, is renowned for the success of his minimalist and lightweight Lotus Cars that paved the way to his fame.

After half a century of European dominance, motor sport recognised a new breed of British drivers; one of these bright new talents was Colin Chapman. He debuted in 1948 with his light-weight Austin Seven-based trials car, which he had christened Lotus MK.VI

Construction on the first Lotus Seven, a development from his beloved original design, began 20th July in ’57. It followed a series of success; Chapman’s engineering prowess had resulted in his team’s debut victory in the British Grand Prix, influencing the desire to produce a newer model.

Heavily influenced by the designs and characteristics of the Lotus MK.VI, Chapman described the Lotus Seven as ‘the type of car he could dash off in, in a weekend’.
Within six weeks the Lotus Seven debuted in a competition at the Brighton Speed Trials. Equipped with a Coventry-Climax engine, disc brakes all round and advanced De-Dion rear suspension, the new car began to dominate the competition.

With the view to keeping the car accessible to all, the production that followed saw to it that the exotic racing kit was replaced in favour of more humble appliances. Chapman also, by finding a loop-hole in certain instructions, saw to it that customers were able to side-step British Purchase Tax requirements, implementing his desire to keep the car as affordable as possible.

Caterham acquired the rights to build the Seven from Colin Chapman himself, back in 1973, and has since been the custodian of the original concept of the light-weight, minimalist design. As well as enforcing this concept, over the years Caterham has improved and refined the design of the Seven.

Since Caterham’s involvement with motor-sport, their academy has taken more than 800 racers since its establishment in ’95, and has created more racing drivers than any other series in the UK.

The new owner-ship of Caterham (Team Lotus Enterprise and, owner of the Team Lotus F1 team, Tony Fernandes) will result in Caterham expanding its product family and becoming a truly global company.

Ode To His Shirt

It flows over me
Fabric like an autumn breeze
On my bare skin
A source of warmth on a chilly night

Aftershave and soap
Lingers
Remnants of Him, his person
I breathe him, even in his absense

Some sizes too big...it cascades around me
The walls around a castle
Flames lick, hot 
The end of his sleeves tucked tight underneath my fingers

Plain, Insignificant
Discarded, forgotton in a heap in his wardrobe
Wrapped tight around my bare flesh
Collars warm on the hollow of my neck, the lining hot between my thighs

My mouth rested just below the V-line
I sleep with a smile
I sleep with him with me

The Dress Code

I am pleased to report that my morning preparing for work was far less haphazard than yesterday's, and I left the house, optimistic, at a promising 9.00am sharp.

I have chosen to wear my new Chinese-style, wrap-around dress on my second day at work, having established the office attire and deciding that I looked far too formal on my first day. The other women around my age seemed to opt for the cardigan and leggings look, whereas the elder, more sophisticated women chose to wear skirts and simple blouses. My attire varied between a blouse teamed with a high-waisted skirt, to a polka-dot, flimsy waist coat with a plain top underneath and black trousers to, finally, a brightly coloured, predominately turquouise coloured dress.

I realise this blog is entirely focused on the clothes I have been wearing to my placement, and not my actual placement, but having already covered the tasks and events of said work experience in an earlier blog, I feel it necessary to highlight the outfits and accessories I wore each day.

You see, I'd never had the opportunity to shop for work before. Unless you counted a £6 black shirt from Primark for the restaurant, that is. So upon learning that I would be working pratically non-stop in professional environments, I took myself straight to the shopping centre and browsed for practical, yet stylish work clothes.

Women, and yes I will include the entire gender in this as I refuse to stand alone with this statement, see the working clothes they ought to wear as part of the job description. When offered a job, I guarentee, one of the solid questions that will be thought or asked is, 'what will I have to wear?'

A friend of mine from Uni , who studied law, was more excited about her wardrobe and what she could wear to the office than the actual work experience, I'm sure. And so she should have been. That girl had more clothes in one bedroom than I've ever seen or imagined possible. In fact, the girl has three rooms essentially as her clothes are scattered between her Uni bedroom, her boyfriend's bedroom and her bedroom back in her home-town. Anyway. I degress.

Although I realised I wasn't entering the world of fashion, where dress-sense is ultimately the make or break of one's career, I did expect to see a bit more glam when it came to the women's attire. The men all wore suits, and at the very least wore smart shirts with jeans. Not one of them ever wore casual shoes or trainers. The women, however, wore primark plimsoles with casual jeans and plain T-Shirts.

I earned myself a few scathing glances on my first day. My punishment, I suppose, for daring to make an effort. Even though this 'effort' was, simply, wearing a smart, ironed blouse and a simple black skirt. I can assure you I did not turn up to work looking like this:

Although I'm sure the men at the office would have been very appreciative, I wanted to ensure I was going in with the right attitude as well as the appropriate IQ Level.

I was still a tad disappointed, though, when it appeared that I may have had to tone down on the smart outfits to blend in with the rest of the office.

To hell with it. I only get to dress and look smart for the duration of two months before I will, no doubt, have to return to my job in Pizza Express, where I will have to wear a plain black shirt and a bum-bag on my waist.

On Monday I might wear a trouser suit.


And, shock horror, perhaps some heels to go with it.

That'll teach them.