onlyemma's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What kind of person ends an interview with a wave? Merry belated Christmas! So to re-cap; I have a job. No, I haven't actually been jobless for the 80 days I haven't updated this in - after 3 weeks of interviews and the odd 5 day tv job, mixed with copious amounts of tea and toast and lying on the landing, I managed to get myself a permanent job as a production assistant. It meant I had to turn down Celebrity Big Brother, but it's a new experience and it'll be good for me. I wince whenever I see the Big Brother adverts though; and I'm almost waiting for January to come and for me to feel heartbroken when it starts, a bit like when you see your last almost-boyfriend has changed his facebook status to "in a relationship" and your stomach drops and you re-evaluate yourself within that second to be a complete failure. But I digress. Speaking of the new experiences I mentioned (somewhere in that last paragraph), it turned out that in my new job, one of those new experiences was to interview for a programme on Living TV and in my second week I had to interview Colin Firth. Colin Firth! He was lovely; but naturally, I was terrible. In all honestly I don't really want to talk about it, but I'm just glad he found my inexperience and air of worldly ignorance amusing and was thankfully sweet and forgiving. However, I'll never be able to watch a film with Colin Firth in, in the same way again. I'm trying to block most of what I said out of my memory, if I'm being completely honest. I couldn't have talked more about my clammy hands if that'd been the point. But moving on, and Christmas has been lovely, it seems I spent a lot of the festive period in Camden with a glass of mulled wine so since coming home, I've spent my time catching up on the TV I missed whilst supping with friends. My family loves watching comedy together so as soon as either me or Kate get home, we catch up on all of the things we've already watched but wished we'd all watched together. They were the programmes we would've got a cup of tea ready for, would've shouted each other into the living room to watch and would've quoted until one of us felt compelled to say, some 2 weeks later, "alright, stop now. It's not funny anymore". So this year has been relaxing; especially now Kate and I are fully employed and don't feel the burden of job hunting in our spare time (during the breaks in the MTV marathon of The Hills). I have to say I'm a bit fed up of the "What are you doing now you're not on Big Brother?" question though. Responding to that has become quite dull and tiresome and my response has now evolved from a cheery explanation of my means, motives and prospects as well as a happy appreciation of the person's interest in my well-being, into throwing my head back and making a growling noise and then slamming my head into whatever is in front of me. The same reaction also applies to "so what did you say to Colin Firth?" and, "so do you have a boyfriend yet?" But being at home is brilliant and all in all I'm happy. Being at home for a longer than a day is a little bit strange though, as as soon as I walk through the door I do seem to regress about 10 years; so much so that my parents think that I need a wake-up call every morning if I'm to get up and out of bed successfully. This is fair enough, but it does lead me to wonder whether they assume the last 9 months I've spent in London without them has been one big sleep. But home is funny. Not only am I transported into being 13 again, but I've become physically unable to get myself dressed until 2 in the afternoon without encouragement, and what worries me further, but I hope is something that happens in every household - is that somehow, as soon as I cross the threshold of the front door, I instantly lose all ability to sensibly place hot drinks. It happens every time I'm home and I can never quite understand it. Cups of tea are left half on/half off of coasters, glasses balance precariously on edges of tables, coffee rings magically form all over the place, on surfaces I didn't even know I'd ever decided to put anything. And as a result, things get brushed past and smashed; hot beverages are sloshed over TV remotes and splashes of Nesquik just appear at the ankles of pyjama bottoms. And it's been bedlam since Kate and I arrived home. It really has. It's a like the house has become a lazily constructed obstacle course for the housebound. 12:16 p.m. - 2008-12-30 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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