Don't cry for me Argentina, the truth is I never left you, I've just been busy drinking tea and looking at cows out of the window with narrowed eyes...
What are up to, cows? Why do you keep looking at me over the wall? What kind of sick game are you playing here?
I'll find out, if it kills me.
(Actually not if it kills me., I'm not that bothered. I'll find out if it causes me slight bodily harm, anything more than that and I'd rather not know.)
In the meantime, I've been watching a lot of the Olympics on TV. I really, truly do not give a shit about any kind of sports whatsoever, but my mum and stepdad have had it on the entire time I've been home and somehow I've been drawn in.
A lot of the female athletes seem to be really glam this year. (Apart from the shot putters, it must be said. While I respect them as athletes and think they are amazing role models, I do question the wisdom of having a haircut like a seventies footballer when you've got a figure that would be described as a fork lift truck in Cosmo's 'Which Body Shape Are You?' quiz.) I was surprised that some of the runners left their hair extensions flowing down their back, you'd think it would slow them down. I noticed that some of them had their countrys' flags painted on their acrylic nails and one of the American runners even had sparkly face paint on.
I know that's not the point of sports at all, but it's interesting. It's interesting that, not only do the female athletes have to concentrate on winning, but they have to think about the fact that they are being viewed by millions... This year, I think the female athletes jazzed themselves up simply because they wanted to, but perhaps in the near distance future, even the world of sports will be affected by our society's obsession with aesthetics.
'Shut the fuck up with this psuedo-serious shit.' I hear you say.
Well, all right then, but I just thought I'd write a little bit about the Olympics because, when I was in London, I think I caught Olympic Fever. One day, as I wandered over the Millenium Bridge on my way to the Tate Modern, I looked across at Tower Bridge and smiled at the five rings suspended underneath, just like I saw on the TV back in Paris. When I walked back across however, the rings had disappeared and nobody believes me.
"Perhaps you were looking at the wrong bridge." my stepdad suggested.
I'm not that thick.
Maybe they took them down for cleaning or something...
Anyway, the point is, the Olympics has been very exciting and, after all my anxious worrying, the buses and tubes were absolutely fine. London seems to be coping very well. I stayed in London for four days, mainly for Eastern Electrics with everybody going to Ibiza but also to see Claire and Lauren, who have just moved there.
Lauren took me on a mini tour of her office- it is absolutely amazing. She showed me her desk and took me to the News Room- everything in the building looks so expensive and important. There are huge tanks with fish that get fancier the closer you get to reception (where Lauren told me she thinks there is a baby shark swimming around, and I believe her) and everyone is super nice and welcoming. They gave me a pass with my name on and a hideous photo that they took when I wasn't looking, and then the smiley lady on front desk told me to go and wait upstairs and to help myself to the 'staff kitchen'.
The 'staff kitchen' is a floor where staff can help themselves to snacks and drinks. Lauren said when she first started and had no money, she lived off the food she took from work- crisps, fruit, cereal bars, biscuits and sweets. After some encouragement from Lauren, I also took the opportunity to stuff my bag with crisps and cereal bars.
As I'm sure you've guessed by now, I was VERY impressed with the free snacks and tea on offer. It made me really crave a proper office job like Lauren's, so I can dress up in pencil skirts everyday and swan around eating complimentary Mini Cheddars.
I said all this to Claire and she said, very wisely, "The fish tank novelty would soon wear off."
She knows me too well. I could never do a job like Lauren's, because for all the snacks and health care they give you, they expect quite a lot in return. Her job sounds really difficult. She basically has to talk to people on the phone all day, in French as well as English, and go in the 'system' to help them with problems that baffled me when she tried to explain them.
When we were in the lift, I made Lauren laugh and she spat Ribena everywhere. There were two serious-looking business men in the lift with us and, surprisingly, they didn't laugh along with us, even when Lauren said. "I'm so sorry guys, that was disgusting."
I was bent over in the corner, crying with laughter. I don't think I will ever be grown up enough to work in an office.
The office tour was on the Thursday, on Friday I went for tea with Lauren and her sister and then we went to see the Damien Hirst exhibition. I thought it was quite impressive until my mum told me that he doesn't actually assemble most of the pieces himself- he has a team of people and he tells them his ideas. Now I'm unsure what to make of pieces like the 'dot paintings' and the 'butterfly pictures'- part of what them made them impressive was the thought of one man taking hours to create them. Not so impressive if all he did was tell a group of interns what to do. Still, the exhibition is really good and I would recommend it. There is a room with live butterflies flitting about in it!
On Saturday it was Eastern Electrics. I'd forgotten to print my ticket off, so me and Claire wandered all over London looking for an internet cafe and I ended up arriving at the festival a couple of hours after everyone else. For the first hour I couldn't find anyone, so I hung around with two cockney builders for a bit who very kindly offered me some coke from a huuuge bag of it they were waving around. (I declined, don't worry mum, if you've sneakily found my blog again. I guess I shouldn't really be using your computer to write a blog post.)
Eventually I met up with everyone else and I had a good day but... I'm still not sure if I want to go to Ibiza or not. I've had no word from Mez about my cheque from the resto (she has to pick it up for me and pay it into my French bank account) and even when/if I do get paid, I need to sort out the hair on my head and the hair on my you know what.. Haircuts and waxes cost money. Money I have unfortunately already spent on fizzy wine and lip liner.
WILL I EVER LEARN?????