Saturday, 4 January 2014

Pushy Bitch

Last night Posh Clare and Glasgow Laura came round for tea and I made them sausages, baked potato and baked beans for tea because Clare DEMANDED that I make it for her. As soon as she arrived she said,
"Darling I can't believe you're making sausages and baked beans for supper."

Then she started giving me 'life advice'. I don't know how she does it, but even though she is just trying to be helpful she ends up making me feel suicidal. I was sat on the opposite end of the sofa to her and she was on my laptop, searching for catering agencies for me to sign up with.

"You need to do this, this, this, this...."

I curled up tighter and tighter until I was literally a little ball of unwillingness, ready to fall off The Edge.

Clare just reminds me of all the things I haven't done and should be doing. Luckily when Laura showed up, Clare started talking about a weekend away in the country- her mum has decided to celebrate Burns Night this year and they are having Secret Haggis instead of Secret Santa and 'neeps and tatties' and by the sounds of it Laura is going to be the Real Scottish Person Star Attraction of the evening. I imagine her being surrounded by lots of people, all like Clare, urging her to 'speak Scottish' and read out poems by Robert Burns.

Anyway. Clare was just trying to kick me into action. I can't go on living this life I've been lumped with in London, because I don't like it. My flatmate told me a couple of days ago that she'll moving out in the next few months, because she wants to move back home and save money. I don't know whether to stay in the flat and get someone else in, or find a new flat, or go back to Paris, or go somewhere else. I keep dreaming in broken French, about rainy streets and Parisien skylines.

But if I leave London and go back to Paris, or go somewhere else (I was thinking I could be a holiday rep for the season) before sorting out a proper job, it will be like this whole London venture was a complete waste of time.

While Clare and Laura were here, we called Amy and passed the phone around as she gave out advice like an oracle. I like Amy's advice better than Clare's because Amy sugarcoats it for me and doesn't try and scare me into action by being aggressively proactive and terrifying. Amy pointed out that I've only been back in England for five months and at least I have somewhere to live and a job.

Guess what.

NYE turned out to be a good night in the end. Before work I decided that I'd try and go out after work, so I put on loads of make-up and packed a pair of heels in my bag. Then, once I got to work, I nipped out to Tesco before it closed and bought a bottle of rum and sixteen sausage rolls from the reduced aisle- I was practically a walking party.

It was a quiet night. We had some Irish Traveller lads in and in my eagerness to show them that I wasn't at all prejudice and am, in fact, a big fan of travellers all over the world (but especially the Eastern European travellers who live on the streets of Paris who nobody seems to realise are HUMAN BEINGS), I might have let them get away with fake IDs. They're not like normal sixteen year old lads though, they just sat around and chatted, taking it in turns to buy rounds, pulling wads of cash out of their pockets. Also, they spoke in the Irish Traveller cant which I've never heard before. They left after a few hours because they said the pub was 'boring'...

It really, really was.

At about half ten, Sophie and her boyfriend Dan came into the pub and surprised me! Dan said that he remembered how shit it was when he worked NYE there two years ago, until a group of us came to surprise him... Karma in work again. I don't know what I would have done if, at midnight, I'd have had to see in the New Year on my own, stood behind the bar and popping a sad party popper all alone.

There weren't many people in the pub- just a family of Swedish tourists, a couple of locals and a Greek/Russian guy on his own. Sophie and Dan got everyone in the pub to join in a circle and sing 'Auld Lang Syne'. Then everyone started clearing out and the deputy manager said I could go.

Sophie and Dan weren't sure what they were doing, but I'd already arranged to meet someone in Greenwich. He was in a pub which played really shit chart music, but then we found a tiny room that was like a living room and there was a DJ playing house music and a guy playing bongo drums for him. I didn't expect to find any good music but I loved it.

This year I have to get a proper job so I can start going out again. I barely ever listen to music, I do things in silence or I put the TV on and watch crap until my eyes hurt.

Not anymore, I'm not making any New Year's Resolutions because I never keep them, but I hope I can make London work. The first thing I need to do is get a new job- I found out this week that the new manager has been sitting in his flat and watching TV when I thought he was in the office doing important manager things!!! What a lazy bastard. When he first started he bought me wine and chocolates after work to say 'thanks for working hard'. I am such a fucking pushover. Throw me a bit of chocolate and I'll happily work away behind the bar on my own, all day, while he gets paid for doing nothing!!

At least I won't feel bad about dropping him in the shit now when I leave.

Maybe my New Year's Resolution should be to start being a pushy bitch and start asking for things.

4 comments:

  1. Oooh I remember that song when it wasn't history!

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    1. It's such a good song! But quite sad though...

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  2. As a totally selfish fan of this blog; move to Paris for more adventures please!

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