"Remember the family holiday you won? Well, here we are!"

Ach, so, yesterday’s drama is over and I have decided I don’t really care all that much about cocking up the interview. I’m annoyed with myself for being so stupid mainly, getting nervous and awkward and instantly forgetting everything I knew about hedge funds (which are lightly regulated private investment fund sometimes characterized by unconventional strategies, according to my good friend wikipedia). This was a bit irritating as I had memorised four pages of information about hedge funds and illiquid assets and fund of funds and other stuff, but didn’t manage to retain the information once my goddam nervous disposition came into play. I don’t remember any of it today, and I think the lesson I should learn from all of this is that I should probably not work in corporate finance.

It does grate somewhat that I have no skills. Sure, I can read at phenomenal speeds (when everyone else got sent on the speed reading course, I didn’t have to go), I can write (sometimes with a fair bit of coherence, although not in this journal, it being in the vernacular and all that), I understand complex ideas, I can learn things quickly, I am IT literate, I am far more numerate than I let on, I am personable (when not cripplingly shy), I take initiative… However, the world of employment does not want this. It wants civil engineers or accountants. And these I am not.

Still, I have decided that in September, when I am a student again, I am going to start going to ballet five times a week. I am going to be a ballet machine. Between now and then I am going to get really thin and strengthen my ankles and sort out my hip. One of the reasons I wanted the job I had the interview for yesterday is that you get private medical insurance, and I have an ongoing problem with my hip flexor. It’s going to be amazing. Yesterday at ballet my legs really hurt from Wednesday’s killer class but I still tried really hard and my feet ache today, but it’s a really good I-worked-really-hard kind of ache. Plus, we’ve got another member for our ballet club! Last week we were discussing how people think adults who do ballet are really weird, and the others in the class were saying how I can get away with it because I’m younger than them, but they just seem really geeky. Somehow the idea of supergeekiness appealed and we decided to form the South London Ballet Club. We’re going to have badges and membership cards and shorts with our names on and we’ll watch Darcey Bussell videos at my house while eating Maltesers (“chocolate before the performance?”). Quality. There are five of us in the club now (although one of them is really annoying so I won’t invite her to my house- I know it sounds petty but she’s brain numbingly dull), so I reckon it’s time to get started on badges! Woo!

Anyway, I promised you all my views on Mt Eerie, so here we go. Let’s set the scene… It’s a Tuesday evening in the Luminaire, and I’m standing by the side of the stage with my lovely N, drinking a beer and smoking a fag. Some music is playing over the PA and although we agree that we like it, we don’t actually find out what it is. The music stops and onto the stage comes the first act, Woelv. As I said before, she’s French-Canadian, called Genevieve. What I didn’t say before is that although she’s pretty, she’s so awkward. She really reminded me of someone but I still haven’t figured out who. Anyway, she played overly cutesy wannabe political songs, which really grated. She sang in French, so thankfully most of the audience were spared the lyrics, although they were not spared the “chat” between songs, where she talked about, amongst other things, the Olympics, prostitution (“it seems to me that junkies and prostitutes seem to have certain things in common sometimes, and sometimes they live in the same places”), large corporations, Hiroshima (“I went to the Hiroshima Museum but it made me sad because everyone went to see the cool stuff like things that were melted by the bomb but I wanted to see the history of it”), nuclear weapons (“did you know that the UK has nuclear weapons?” – yes of course we did, dummy). It was all rather odd because everyone was so silent and it was like in school assembly where someone stands up and sings a song and everyone claps politely but thinks “pah, I could do better”. It wasn’t like her songs were particularly special either. Her voice seemed quite affected, like she was putting on this act of simplicity and innocence (maybe in reality she’s a porn fiend?). One thing of note was that one of the strings on her guitar snapped, and it reminded me of when I used to play the violin a lot more and one time I didn’t have a spare string, and even though I could see the string unravelling and about to break, I carried on using it anyway. It lasted a surprisingly long time, although I wouldn’t recommend it and you should always carry spares, kids.

Anyway, next up was casiotoneforthepainfullyalone (it’s surely better one word?), who is essentially a kinda fat, nay, rotund, hairy man playing what I can only hope was ironic keyboard style music. It sounded a bit like a rubbish version of The Buggles, although without the nostalgia that is associated with the likes of Video Killed the Radio Star. Most of the time he was playing, I was talking to N, who was being super adorable (and dressed in a suit- which I thought was actually quite cool because it wasn’t what everyone else was wearing (ie jeans and tshirt type combo) and it looked really smart, like he’d made an effort for the gig, showing respect and so on), and my cousin JS, who I haven’t properly seen in ages.

Finally it was time for Mt Eerie, and we went to sit on the stage. I was too scared to go first so N had to lead the way and I felt like a wally. Anyway, we were in the corner, behind and to the side (maybe left, maybe right, I don’t know these things) of Phil Elverum. N had a minidisk player that he balanced carefully on his hand to record the whole thing (initially this was to be my job but there was very nearly a beer-minidisk collision so I gave it back to him). It was splendid. Phil Elverum is amazing. He writes such beautiful songs. He ended up playing for over an hour, and given that he didn’t talk very much, that’s a lot of music. And it was all so good. He’s like a real version of whatever it is that that Woelv woman/girl was trying to do. He does this absolutely endearing thing at the end of every song, where he jumps backwards. It’s adorable. N said that he thought it was so we could tell it was the end of the song, but he did it at the end of every song, even ones that were quite obvious. I just wanted to pat him on the head, although obviously I’m not that patronising, nor would I take such liberties in assuming I could go anywhere near him. I think I’ve got some very sad adoration thing going on. But truly, it was beautiful and even when my hip cramped up so much that I couldn’t move, I loved it. I was slightly annoyed that my phone wasn’t working as I’d have liked to have taken some photos, but N took some photos, so I guess that’s okay.

I’d already decided that I would call in sick the next day, and so I did (I had a “migraine” and was pretty damn convincing even if I do say so myself), and treated myself to a lie in. that wasn’t easy, just so you know, as there is a construction site opposite N’s flat, and they start breaking up slabs on concrete at silly o’clock. Still, I did rather well. I watched a bit of Jeremy Kyle, but if I’m honest, the magic has gone and I no longer find him the hero I used to. I spent half an hour brushing my teeth. Then I went to LSE, as I’d promised JS I’d help him. He didn’t actually need much help so in the end all I did was put up a couple of posters and some things saying “donations are welcome” (and in the end they were forthcoming, with around £70 being collected). Anyway, I sat right at the very front of the Shaw Library, feeling quite excited. Woelv played first, and thankfully she was less talkative and didn’t mention politics once, although I found her constantly stating how tired she was to be a bit of a pain. If you’re that tired, piss off. We want to see Phil anyway! She only played a few songs though, and up close she’s even prettier, and I took some pictures of her. Then Phil played. He was wearing the same trousers as the day before, which was a bit skanky because they were white trousers and they were quite dirty. I didn’t really like them for that reason and others, although he obviously did like them and even mentioned them (ish) in a song, although he called them “pants”, being American and all that. He seemed genuinely excited to be playing in a library, which I thought- again- was endearing. Genuine excitement is such a beautiful thing. He sang a song about the rain (it had been raining outside), called “In The Rain”, and told us that where he grew up, it rained so much that it made people go crazy. Clearly he has not been to Ireland. He also played some Thanksgiving songs, as Thanksgiving will be playing in London in July. It was all really fun. I could probably go on about how he stood on two feet, then one foot, then two feet again, but do these things really matter? He asked everyone which station you’d need to get to Bristol, and I told him- aha! I knew my tube/train/transport knowledge would come in use one day! You may all mock me for knowing the tube map and for being the world’s geekiest transport type person, but who told Phil Elverum how to get to Bristol? Me! Yes, me! Anyway, this is pitiful so I will shut up. You all should have been there. Shaw Library + Mt Eerie = lovely jubbly time had by all.

I did take photos of it all but they’re on my phone and I forgot to upload them last night, so I can’t put any up here. You might like to see Undereducated's flickr page (I hope JS doesn’t mind me doing this) at the following link:

www.flickr.com/photos/undereducated

anyhow, after a nice cup of tea and some silly conversation with people I probably should have spoken to before if I wasn’t so rubbish, I met up with M who advised me on where to buy a suit (seriously, the man is officially my fashion guru), bought said suit, and then went to see S, and had tea and got the coolest birthday present and had wonderful chats like in the good old days. I know she thinks she has Lois Lane hair but I think she looks splendid and we’re going to swim in the lido this summer. I’d really missed her. Then I went to ballet, danced so hard my legs nearly fell off, got soaked in the rain, came back to Peckham and fell asleep in N’s arms, which was a good end to the day.

Yesterday nothing especially of not happened, barring the interview and so on, other than that we got a new oven (or “overn” as #1 spelt it). what had happened was that #4 decided that he didn’t like the old one so he called the landlord and told them that it was a fire hazard and very unsafe and a whole load of other stuff, and they came and fitted a new one!! Next week he’s going to try getting us a new hob (I think this is what he wanted in the first place) and he reckons the floor in the kitchen should be replaced. Lesson to be learnt from all of this: do not be scared of new housemates (or change in general) as it brings with it new ovens and floors and a toaster with a special rack for warming croissants.

Anyway, the weekend is upon us, and what I thought might be a shit weekend thanks to everyone doing things that don’t involve me (ie N is studying and #1 is in Newcastle) might actually be okay because there’s the Monaco Grand Prix (and Kimi has a diamond encrusted steering wheel) and it’s a friends birthday and tonight N isn’t studying and who needs it to be nice weather on bank holiday weekends anyway when you’ve just remembered that you have the warmest socks known to man?