Monday 19 March 2007

Woza Weekend!

It's Monday morning and I'm surprisingly cheerful, considering that.... well, it's Monday.... and that after tomorrow I will be unemployed. Yes, the day has finally come; I have gathered my courage and officially announced my last day at my company, and by Wednesday I will be as free - and poor - as a churchmouse (are churchmice free? I know I'm mixing up two idioms here, but it seemed nonsensical to say as poor as a bird.... although, on second thoughts, it's not like mice really go to church). I am now waiting with bated breath for Agency Witch X to come through with something for me for Wednesday. Usually, when you're bouncing from one temp job to another, there is anything from a few days to a couple of weeks in between where you do nothing except sit around watching the phone. This is standard procedure - there are many candidates all looking for similar work, and you have to take your place in the queue. Previously, this hasn't been much of a problem for me - I've taken the days off in stride and enjoyed the break. Now though, the idea of being unemployed should fill me with panic, as there are two pay days left until the end of the month, which means I really do need 2 full salaries for expenses.

However, instead of being at my wit's end like I normally would be, I'm strangely unconcerned. I can't figure out if this new-found calm is a zen-like acceptance of "what will be will be", or if my brain hasn't quite computed what will happen if I don't get another job this week, and is insisting on staying blissfully unaware. Either way, I'll take it while I can. If I don't post tomorrow, it's probably because I have woken up to the reality of the situation and am hyperventilating too much to write.

The weekend was fairly relaxed, by recent standards (we've had a couple of caners lately - some no holds barred nights that have left us looking back with a mixture of shock and a vague sense of pride, as in - did we really manage to do that?). On Friday, Shoes and I went for drinks with some of his work mates, one of whom was celebrating his birthday. Birthday boy A, and his girlfriend E, (no really, they are real people, not just code names for class-A drugs) are our first two proper English friends. As South Africans, we come over to London either with a partner or a group of friends, and promptly set ourselves up in Antipodean communities where we mix mostly with other saffas and some token aussies and kiwis (just to have someone to verbally abuse over the rugby and cricket). In our case, not only are we four saffas living together who have known each other for years, but we have a network of other friends here who were part of our group back home. The result is that we only ever do things with our group of friends, and in the year and a half that we've been here, the only new people to become part of our group are other saffas with connections to our current group members (I'm trying hard not to make this sound like some sort of cult).

So it has been refreshing to meet A and E, who are the kind of people who could become real friends, rather than just acquaintances you meet when out on the piss. We went to a place in Tottenham Court Road called Jrinks (like drinks, but say it with a Cape Flats accent). Quick review: small, dingy, WAY too loud (and it's not just because I'm getting old) with a really random collection of people - it's one of the many West End bars not listed on any nightlife websites because there's not much one can say to attract punters. However, 'jrinks' were fairly cheap and the company was great, if a little undignified (WHAT DID YOU SAY? HUH?) at times.

Yesterday I was annoyed and anti-social all day for no reason. Everytime I went into the lounge where the others were watching footie, I found myself wanting to throttle one of them (any one would have done - I had no particular issues with anybody). I had the good sense to retreat to my room and wallow in my irritation, but the situation was precarious whenever I had to venture out for coffee, snacks or just to see what they were doing (even though I knew I should stay away, it was like a red flag to a bull). And of course, when I did attempt to say something - and I only meant to utter bland sentences, like who wants tea or what's the score - somehow what came out of my mouth was rather more snippy and sarcastic, like whatever! and i'm fine (in response to what's wrong?). I stayed that way for the rest of the day, only cheering up when our TV (which is rather sick) had a farting fit during Babel - it can't handle bass very well and emits sounds similar to cows lowing. The movie itself, by the way, is missable.... great story, some excellent characters, but it's about an hour too long - I realize silence is important as part of the message of misunderstandings, but come on already, it was like they forgot to stop the camera rolling at times!

As I write it's starting to snow.... and now it's just stopped. So much for the grandiose burblings I had planned on the magic of snowfall. :-/

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