Good evening my little bloggees!

And so, here I am, two weeks after my little gloat about having a fortnight off work... and having to mentally prepare myself for the 9 til 5 once again.  It's done me the world of good to have such a long break, and has also given me time to mull over those aspects of my job that don't sit well with me - well, the ones that I can do something about anyway...

Upon reflection, many of the things that have been bugging me I can only address by asking for advice and support.  So, on my "to do" list for Monday is to arrange a time to receive feedback  on my latest unsuccessful interview and to arrange a supervision with my manager to discuss my career progression - something that he has hinted he can help with but I've never really taken him up on.  And, having chatted to a friend about some of my other work-based gripes, I will be asking a few other questions of my management team about how we can make the demands put upon our service (and me!) more manageable - and will be offering a few solutions too. 

I've been deploying this new problem-solving tactic out of the workplace too.  Having realised that the diploma I want to study will cost me twice what I expected, I've asked for a loan.  And, having had a situation play on my mind for a few months, I've asked the other person involved about it - and was relieved to hear that what I had perceived as a major difference of opinion was, in fact, not much more than a misunderstanding.  Within the space of a day, by asking questions of people, I've had two loads lifted off my mind.  Happy days.

So, my new motto for life?  If you don't ask, you don't get - whether it be a promotion, some support, or clarification on a situation that has been getting your knickers in a twist.  And, although it's a new mantra, it's one that I can already highly recommend.

Afternoon all!
Well I trust you are all having a super Sunday.  I set my alarm this morning in an attempt to get Glastonbury tickets.  Needless to say I wasn't successful, but I'm not going to dwell on it.  Sniff...
So, how was your week?  I managed to finish off the two collages I made a start on last week - and here they are!  I might play with another today - the truth is I really want to do a bit of painting but, as I work in slow-drying oils, I'm putting this off until after I move.  Which, incidentally, I'm no further along with.  Don't get me started...

I'm sure you don't need me to tell you this, but buying a flat is not easy in London, yet is something that, when you get to my age (34 - yes, I lied last week when I suggested I was a touch younger...) is almost expected of you.  Last night my friend Vicky and I bemoaned all the Facebook posts reminding us of our friend's and aquaintances achievements, from buying houses, getting engaged and having children.  But then, after further discussion (and a bit more wine) we came to the conclusion that, whilst for some people reaching these milestones was a natural progression, the rest of us want to make our own rules.  In London this is a lot easier, and folk are more accepting of an alternative.  This week I was out until 3am two nights in a row and have been more than a little consumed with thoughts of music festivals - quite normal to me, but apparently not so to others.  I'll never forget clubbing in Birmingham before Christmas and noting that, apart from one rogue couple, everyone else was younger than 25.  Even more amusing was when a lad barely able to shave suggested I was only there to pull a younger man.  No, I'm not kidding...
So, whist I'm not married with kids (estate agents; please note that such assumptions are NOT acceptable) and object to being referred to as "madam", I'm embracing certain aspects of grown up living - but for me, not because I think I should or other people expect me too.  I'm going to buy my flat and am in the process of rediscovering my love of cooking (Roquamole, anyone?) but can't wait to hit the festival season this summer - and my next night on the dance floor.  Where I'll be shaking my bootie for me and no one else.

You know what?  I feel a bit sorry for my man.  Not only has he been stuck with me for longer than I care to admit, but, when he stayed with me down here in London last week, it appeared that the gods were against us.  On Monday we hit Soho to check out Time Out’s vintage shopping trail followed with a goldfish bowl of gin at Star in the Sky – only to discover on our arrival that it was closed.  On Saturday we headed to the Natural History Museum to see the Wildlife Photography Award – but tickets had sold out.  The following day brunch was scuppered by some black pudding that had decided to grow a slimy grey coating whilst still within the use-by date and our Sunday matinee was cut short when my DVD player decided to have a hissy-fit halfway through Three Lions.

The poor lamb.

But, you know what?  These unfortunate incidents turned out to be less disastrous than I thought.  In fact, you could almost call them happy accidents.  Rather than admitting defeat, we swapped gin in Soho for beer in Finsbury Park, and Soho Joe’s for Papagones, who make up for any shortfalls in the pizza department with chocolate and hazelnut ice cream to DIE for.  Photography was replaced with a rather successful shopping trip (especially as HMV had started to accept gift vouchers again), black pudding with the much healthier option of grilled tomatoes (which incidentally go very well with a bit of pepper sauce) and the movie with a games of cards – made all the better by my inevitable victory (ha!).

So, my point?  Well, just because things don’t always turn out the way you hoped doesn’t mean that other good stuff won’t happen.  Last Friday I had a horrendous interview for a job I really wanted.  Needless to say my impersonation of a rabbit caught in headlights did not impress the interview panel and I was not successful.  I admit I was gutted – and telling my workmates was excruciating, especially as everyone expected me to do well.  But, you know what?  Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.  Just like it wasn’t meant to be for me to find a publisher last year, or for me to be discovered by a best-selling glossy, Charles Saatchi or a hip and happening craft shop in Shoreditch.  But that’s okay.  Because something much better is just around the corner.  And I fully intend to have a bit of fun whilst I find it.