"I know it’s wrong, but it’s how I feel"

First things first, I would just like to say that I am wearing a suit and I look like a chump. What’s vaguely funny in a not-really-very-funny way is that this morning, after waking up early and going back to Herne Hill and washing my hair and blow-drying it and choosing a shirt and putting on new tights and all that kind of stuff, I got to Elephant and ended up having to almost swim through the underpass. There was a puddle about three metres across, a good four inches deep. I couldn’t run and jump as smart skirts don’t allow this kind of thing. Two women ahead of me were just wading through but unfortunately, thanks to my gullibility and overactive imagination, I am somewhat fearful of komodo dragons in every bit of water I see. Someone dragged some crates down from the market and placed them in the puddles as stepping stones, so I used those and nearly fell in but didn’t. All that practice I did of jumping from one stone to the next in rivers as a kid has clearly not gone to waste.

Speaking of my suit… Have I mentioned that I look like a chump? Yesterday I went to Oxfam and couldn’t stop laughing when I looked in the full-length mirror. I look like such an impostor. I’m not an adult! Though today I look a little more grown up as my hair isn’t in pigtails and I don’t have green eye shadow on. Yesterday I got some odd comments about the way I looked. These ranged from a bit offensive really to quite sweet. Anyway, the suit was a proper bargain at only £30 and it’s wool and everything, and blatantly cost far more than £30 in the first place. Still… I look like a buffoon.

Anyway, enough lamenting about how ridiculous I look for now. On Tuesday we went to see Mt Eerie at the Luminaire, which meant a trip up to north London, via me nearly having a spaz out at Waterloo station (too many people, I got trodden on, I didn’t like it) but managing not to. It rained in Kilburn, like always. The reason for this is that there are lots of Irish people and it always rains in Ireland and us Irish start to shrivel up if we don’t get rained on frequently. Bloody excellent the gig was, though. First of all was Woelv, who is this French-Canadian chick called Genevieve, then Casiotone for the Painfully Alone, and then finally Mount Eerie.

But unfortunately I don’t have time to write about this all right now as I have my interview to go to and I have still not quite worked out what a hedge fund is, other than, contrary to what I was told yesterday, it is probably not anything to do with sheep. So I will write about Mt Eerie later on/tomorrow, and if you’re especially lucky, you might get photos but don’t hold your breath because that’ll give you cramp, like I did yesterday.