The Girl Who Turned Into A Bed

It happened that day
she picked some strange pussy willow.
Her head swelled up white
And soft as a pillow.

Her skin, which had turned
all flaky and rotten,
was now replaced
with 100% cotton.

Through her organs and torso
she sprouted like wings,
a beautiful set
of mattress and springs.

It was so terribly strange
that I started to weep.
But at least after that
I had a nice place to sleep.

- Tim Burton

Other than that, I would just like to say that I have my first ever interview on Tuesday morning, for Marks and Spencer. Apparently it is going to take a whole hour to see whether I’m the right sort of person or not to work on a till. Aside from a one-to-one interview, I may also be asked to complete a ‘practical exercise’ which will assess my ‘communication skills’. Hmm. And I’m not entirely sure what they’re going to ask me, or what I’m going to say. The only part of Marks and Spencer I feel remotely loyal to is their underwear department. Which I don’t think is going to get me very far.

So, Harriet, why would you like to work at Marks and Spencer?

Because I
a) want some money,
b) like your underwear, and
c) haven’t had any better offers.

Maybe not.

On Thursday afternoon I went down to London and had a lovely Italian dinner in the evening with Thom and Hettie. We ate a lot of pasta, and my stomach felt distinctly uncomfortable the following morning. On Friday I mooched, yesterday I met up with Aaron and we went and sat in St James Park in the sunshine before I got a train back home in the evening, and today I picked some raspberries and wrote a nasty email. A number of recent happenings have filled me with anger to the point of tears, and I wish I could vent some of it on here, but I can’t, so I will just have to content myself by saying this: sometimes, men really can be selfish bastards.