Proper piss poor fen girls

Ballet class last night was, yet again, really good. I managed to get there late as I was having a struggle with the printer at work, which chewed up my application form. Still, I rushed into the class and got stuck in, and laughed almost the whole way through. For some reason, I found almost everything really funny, but I also worked really hard. The floor was very slippery and at first I nearly fell over, but then I put so much rosin on my shoes that I could hardly turn at all. I decided to stand at the front during centre, instead of lurking near the back, and managed to muddle through most of the exercises. Some people admired my shorts, which was pretty cool. Instead of wearing black thick wool shorts, I was wearing snoopy shorts, with a thermal vest on over my leotard. I’m a real fan of thermal vests. In fact, I don’t think there are many outfits that can’t be improved immensely by wearing a vest over the top. I really am a proper fashion icon.

After the class, I walked to the bus stop with three of the other girls. As we were leaving the building, I rolled a cigarette and was promptly laughed at, being told that I was having a proper Geri Halliwell moment. Anyway, we’re always really raucous after class, and we had a very animated conversation about penises, what to have for dinner and the Celts while walking down Battersea High Street. One of the girls kept asking who the Iceni were, but I don’t think she got a particularly satisfactory answer as we kept telling her they were from the fens, and she didn’t know where that was. I am- or, at least, was- a fen girl, and so is/was another girl in my class. I’m also a proper Celt, though we were having a bit of an argument about who was classified as a Celt. I still maintain that I’m totally Celt. It’s better than being totally fen.

It’s been bloody freezing lately. I thought my hands were going to drop off on the way to Clapham Junction, and I had to keep my hands rammed in my pockets the whole way.

I got home in time to watch trashy tv and cook some food. I cooked some quorn as I felt that a bit of protein wouldn’t go amiss, but I put too much balsamic vinegar in once again. In the end it tasted alright, and it hit the spot. I found some marshmallows in the fridge, which were much appreciated. I have such a sweet tooth. A guy at work calls me ‘Charlie’, as in ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’ (which I suppose is better than him calling me Willy Wonka). He’s always amazed that I only have two fillings. To be honest, though, I’m sure I need more. I’m too scared to go to the dentists. Plus, it costs money! I think it’s £8 for a ten minute check up, and that’s before they do anything at all. I started filling in a job application, but got bored, and just had a cup of tea and cigarette out the bedroom window before going to bed.

This morning I once again managed to amaze myself with my stupid morning time management. The alarm went off at 7, but I ignored it. At 8 I actually got up, which left me 57 minutes to get ready and be at the station. Plenty of time, you would think… I made some tea and sorted out my packed lunch, then hung up my laundry. So far so good, you’d think? I had a little chat with camper#1, who split up with her boyfriend last night (his response- and this is awful!- was “gee… if that’s what you want”) while finishing my cup of tea, and then got in the shower. By the time I got out of the shower it was 9:02. Yes, I’d missed the train. The next one is at 9:23, which I thought would be no problem. But no. I spent so much time faffing that I got to that time and I saw the train pull into the station. “Okay,” I thought. “I can get the 9:41. There’s no way I can miss that one.” I’m not sure how, but I managed to miss that too. In the end I got the 9:59. Which means it took me TWO HOURS from getting out of bed to getting on the train. Bearing in mind that the station is a minutes walk from the flat, that is an appalling length of time. And if you factor in that my alarm first went off at 7… I really need to do something about this. This is poor time management. How do other people manage to do everything they need to do in half an hour? Even if it took me an hour, that would be fine. I should really try and make a plan and stick to it. How long does a shower take? I spent half an hour in the bathroom today- just brushing my teeth and having a shower. I’m clearly doing something wrong.

Despite realising that I need to do something about my massive time-wasting every morning, I also realised that I need to sort out my finances. I am so poor. I didn’t used to be this poor, even as a student (having said that, I didn’t go out very much- I used to stay in and watch films with my cat). Before Christmas I spent far too much money, which I now regret, as I now have nothing- literally nothing. This morning I have applied for a bank loan and for a credit card. I’ve been turned down for the credit card. I am literally up shit creek without a paddle. I feel sick whenever I think about my finances. I just applied for another Barclaycard (I cut up my old one). I’m behind in my rent. I still owe NatWest vast amounts. I need another job.

Other than this, I’m very happy at the moment and am really enjoying myself. If only I could enjoy myself while someone else paid my rent. If anyone reading this feels like helping a lamb in very desperate need, please send me some money…