What I'm Waiting For...

2 days, 14 hours and 32 minutes until James's plane lands! I have really, really missed my evil partner in crime... there's not enough blog fodder in my life without him around!

Little Shop of Horrors

My life in the retail sector continues to suck. It is just sooooo dull; clock-watching has become my new hobby (and I'm very good at it!). I'm almost ready to offer a full apology to the Diplomatic Service for whinging about being bored in my last job, because this is ten times worse - and all for the grand sum of £5 per hour!! Highlights of the day include: finding jackets on the rails that have zips left undone, and doing the zips back up; tucking in price labels that have been left out; my half hour lunch break (Boots' meal deals rock!); being allowed to use the steaming machine to get the creases out of clothes; and, of course, home time (when I can run wild and free without the fear of being told off by my 23 year old manager)! Sometimes I'm so bored that I go and have a pee even if I don't particularly need one - just to pass the time. This is what my life has come to! (And, Simon Harkin, don't ever follow my career path from Dip Service to retail sector - I got told off the other week for being 10 minutes late back from lunch. 10 minutes! I should have told him about that afternoon I can barely remember when we were over 3 hours late...)

There is a notice in our staff room that says: "You should all ask yourselves one question when you leave at the end of the day: 'What have I done today?'. If you can answer 'my best' then that's the most I can ask of you." I'm working for David Fucking Brent!

Feeling hot, hot, hot

Summer finally arrives in England and I'm already yearning for a Swiss summer instead - at least when it was this hot we could cool off the glacial waters of the Aare and sunbathe starkers! Somehow, stripping off and jumping into the Cam doesn't have quite the same appeal...

My two weeks as Mrs Ryan are nearly over: the Finn returns tonight and Ryan departs for a conference in Bordeaux on Sunday (hard life). The marriage was good while it lasted and he didn't ONCE attempt to murder me with his double-bladed axe (quite a disappointment, really!), although he did seem to want to spend a worrying amount of time with his complex wavelets instead of with me. I'm so used to spending time with James, it's a surprise when I realise other PhD students actually spend a lot of time working rather than down the pub!

Too hot to write any more. I'm going to take my clothes off and attempt to get into the fridge. There's no-one left in my corridor so I should go undetected for quite some time.

Becky and Ryan Go To Whitecastle

My two weeks alone with Ryan have turned out to be notably void of alone-time with Ryan. We've hardly had time for one solitary bout of domestic violence, what with the company of Glen, followed by Dev, followed by Mark. Probably for the best. We were, however, left alone for the later part of yesterday evening. We decided to use our time wisely and in a manner befitting students of this fine educational establishment. We went to the bar for a beer, took it back to Ryan's room and watched Trailor Park Boys followed by a film called Harold and Kumar Go to Whitecastle. Trailor Park Boys contained a scene about the Assistant Park Supervisor, Randy, eating 15 cheeseburgers. And the film turned out to be about two dope-heads who are stoned and go on a mission to Whitecastle to buy cheeseburgers. I started to get cheeseburger cravings myself and made the mistake of mentioning it to Ryan. Within seconds we were on our bikes peddling furiously into town to buy a Happy Meal - and it was 1130 at night. We were the only sober people in McDonalds and it was quite a scary experience! However, it did enable us to watch the rest of the film without drooling at the thought of fast food. It took the protagonists over an hour and half of wacky adventures involving Doogie Howser MD, apex predators, encounters with racist thugs etc to reach their destination - it took Ryan and I only 30 minutes to peddle into town, consume food and peddle back. We rock!

My job in the retail sector is becoming increasingly surreal. Today, we were kept late for a congratulatory talk by the manager, Chris. He told us we had all done sterling work and could be proud of ourselves, "You've all done the very best you could possibly do, and when Luke [the area manager] calls on Monday and says 'Did they all do the best job they could possibly do?', I'll say 'yes'". Hoo-fucking-rah! Then he told us we could go home tonight, have a few bevvies and (get this) ... do what we want. Really? Can we, can we? Well, tickle my tits till Friday!!! I can't believe I'm allowed to do what I want on a Saturday night! It's almost like I'm a grown-up! But I'm still not sure I should be trusted...