My first whole week of work for…er…ever has definitely been a bit of a shock. And on top of general tiredness I’ve also managed to get the obligatory Fresher’s week cold even though I’m no longer at University, which is rather unfair, I think. I’ve realized that I have essentially become a sort of up-market checkout girl, but at least all the people I’m working with at M&S are friendly enough, and I’m sure I could be doing worse things. Probably. Actually, I think everyone should be a checkout girl, at least for a couple of weeks. It really puts a perspective on things. If nothing else, I know that I’m going to be polite and smile and say ‘hello’ to every single person I meet on a till from now until the end of my life.

I have also been amassing a completely useless amount of information on mowers and their inner parts. This is due to the work that I’m doing up the road for Stephen. I’ve been entering invoices for a company called Mobile Mower Services, who repair mowers mostly for golf clubs. I know that a spark plug costs 3 pounds 50, and a litre of engine oil 2 pounds 50. I know the names of a good number of golf clubs, and where they are. I know the makes of a variety of mowers. But what good is all this going to do me, really?

I’ve come across some great mower parts though: ‘suspension wish bones’, ‘stiff nuts’, ‘tubs of back lapping paste’, and my favourite so far, ‘grease nipples’.

I’ve also recently been sucked into the local hand-bell group, which Stephen runs. I’ve been to one rehearsal so far, and it was like torture. But they’re short of people, and I make quite a lot of difference (potentially because I can actually sight-read music), so I think I’m committed. We have to wear white gloves. I have stand and listen to people who don’t know anything about music making stupid remarks and people who think they know about music but don’t making stupid remarks, and I don’t know what’s worse. It was so tempting last week to just shout at them all to shut up before declaring myself director and taking over the whole rehearsal, but obviously I couldn’t. Instead I had to put up with a long discussion about what to do with a pause at the end of the bar, a number of little old ladies who can apparently play the organ but can’t cope with a total of two notes when it comes to hand-belling, and Stephen telling me I’d done really well to pick it up so quickly, with all this new music (it was just so difficult). Argh! Please, someone save me!

On Sunday I went down to RHUL for Tessa’s birthday, which was very uplifting and really odd and quite sad all at the same time. It was simply bizarre walking round campus and feeling like I shouldn’t really have been there. It’s odd to realize that things simply carry on without you. And it was wonderful to be reminded that there are actually people who love me (none of them in Banham), and to have people actually pleased to see me, and to have some good hugs, but then I left on Sunday evening just wishing I was staying. *Sigh* I came back home via Hettie’s in London though, and had a lovely meal with Thom, which made me temporarily feel a bit better.

All will be fine.

I saw Louis de Bernieres in a bookshop in Norwich the other day (he was opening it). Hurrah! Also, far too many people at M&S over the past week have asked me if I’m still at school, which is not good. I know that I look young for my age, but I didn’t think things were that bad. Maybe I should do something drastic with my hair, or something.

The Quote of the Week comes from Rachel, who wants to marry a penniless musician so she can ‘just eat bread and water and have lots of sex all the time’.