six seconds from barefoot

I am currently trying to make my CV look less shit, but failing miserably. Mainly because I keep getting distracted (I say that like it’s a bad thing). First of all, it’s so sunny and I just want to go outside. Secondly, I am enjoying banter with S about impending midget-porn-and-beer session. And thirdly, holy shit, my new Primark clothes are cool! I have the office to myself so I just held a fashion show (which means I just tried on my clothes and went “eeeee!” at my reflection). I would love to give up work and just be a fashion type person, like a stylist or something. Not only would it be a fucking cool job but also it would be a resounding fuck you to that “friend” who said I looked like I dressed in the dark and my style could at best be described as ‘hotch-potch’.

At lunchtime I walked up to London Bridge as the WHSmith there is the only reliable vendor of F1 Racing, my magazine of choice. Once I’d got that far, I decided to go and sit by the river, so wandered over to City Hall, carefully avoiding a guy from the legal department who I think has social problems but always, without fail, tries to involve me in a conversation, even if I tell him categorically that I’m busy or in a rush. I hadn’t been to City Hall in ages, probably not since last summer. There are loads of water features, which are lots of fun if you’re like me. The best ones are the fountains that come out of the ground and work on a timer, so they look like they’re dancing. I absolutely love these things. When I was 17 I spent a summer in Montpelier, and when it got too hot I used to stand in the middle of it. The City Hall version is a lot smaller, and of course it was about 10 degrees cooler than Montpelier, but it was still brilliant. Loads of kids were going in the water, and I was quite tempted but I didn’t think it would be much appreciated if I went back to the office soaking wet. Plus I didn’t want to get F1 Racing wet.

On the way back to the office I saw a man with his kid, a proper little baby, maybe six months old or so, and they were playing in what looks like a gutter but is probably just another water feature, unless town planning has resorted to open sewers in the middle of the pavement. The kid was loving it, splashing water and stuff, and although I smiled, I did not do what happened next: a whole crowd of Japanese tourists swarmed up and started poking the baby and waggling its feet and taking pictures. The man looked really pissed off and was going to tell them to fuck off and find another baby to molest, they’re not public property you know, but the baby started laughing and he couldn’t really. Yet more Japanese tourists appeared literally out of nowhere and took more pictures and pinched the baby’s cheeks and waved its arms around. A few years ago I was working with this Chinese man called Edward and I had to tell him to stop going up to children and taking photos of them as he nearly got punched. He really didn’t understand why it was a problem.

Now that summer, or at least, a hint of summer, is upon us, I’ve been thinking (albeit fleetingly) of going back to my old summer job. Not because it was a good job (it wasn’t) and not because it paid well (it didn’t) but because I got to spend lots of time outside, and I suppose £250 a week is manageable. Right? Actually, they paid for my travel as well so I was actually better off then than I am now. I’ve said it before and I fear that it may become the motto of my life, but I don’t know why I went to uni. Having said all that, I don’t actually give a toss and I’m going to enjoy the last of the sun and sort out my CV tomorrow (ie give it to C to re-write for me). One day I will get some motivation and ambition, but for the moment ambivalence and apathy seem to be the flavour of the month.