I’m a real boy

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Or person, shall we say. But for the sake of the Pinocchio gag we’ll leave it at that. Yes, I have now entered into the big bad wide world of people who actually work for a living and get up before midday and wear office clothes and drink coffee (black; child me would be appalled). You could say that my job isn’t the most exciting thing in the world, but I’m still in that stage where the novelty of having a routine and a security pass that gets me up a lift masks any boredom I might get from the menial admin tasks the job entails.

Having moved into my new flat right in the centre of Bristol (very exciting now I’m going to be able to afford the things my poor student self always wanted to), I started off life as a profesh working woman with a crazy weekend of drinking and not really acting profesh at all. An all day festival at Castle Park led to me collapsing in my new room Sunday evening without having even attempted to unpack, so as you can imagine I was extremely prepared for my first day of work.

My first day I didn’t know how lunch breaks worked and was simply told to go get lunch so ended up rushing into Waitrose to purchase some Sushi and sitting in the rain outside my office attempting to eat quickly (which is a difficult feat as anyone who’s ever eaten with me will know). Contrast that with today’s lunch which ended up stretching to almost an hour as I faced multiple obstacles including broken lifts, massive queues, and the walk to a friends house that was much further away than I had envisaged only to find she wouldn’t answer her door.

Pretty much the most exciting thing that has come of my first few days has been getting a Waitrose card that gives me free coffee every day. It’s the little things in life. I’m slowly getting used to sticking to a routine and managing to go to bed before midnight because let’s face it, 6 hours sleep definitely doesn’t fall under the heading ‘beauty sleep’ which is what I need to face 8.30-5 every day. Or even just the walk up the hill to get there. So far I’ve tried to fill my evenings up with activities so I have something to look forward to whilst I’m sitting at my desk typing out ten million ISBN numbers and responding to queries like “please tell which you send book date to address thanks”. I’m definitely becoming one of those people who live for the weekends; can already see myself singing Rebecca Black when Friday comes along. You know you gotta get down on Friday.

As part of this so-called ‘routine’ I thought it might be beneficial to join a gym so headed into the swanky looking one next to my office where they informed me I come under corporate discount. Score, gym next to the office and it’s cheap… no. Discounted it costs £70 a month. Decided to go to the other gym on the Triangle but had some bits and bobs to pick up in Wilkinsons first which ended up amounting to a massive bin filled with all kinds of room appliances including a bunch of fake flowers. So I entered the building hauling my bin with me and headed down the stairs only to find myself in the middle of the running machines with no reception in sight. After a few minutes of confused wandering, all the time holding my bin, I decided I looked too special and ran out of there. What’s the internet for anyway if not for signing up for the gym…?!

I’ve been too busy to think about missing home yet, and I have to say I am very much enjoying independence and the whole not sharing a room thing. However the washing bin is looking rather full and I’d quite like some of mumma’s cooking so I guess you can never get the best of both worlds. I suppose now I’m a real person I’m meant to actually be responsible for sorting my life out but I’m still a kid really so can’t see that happening anytime soon. Only today mother took it upon herself to send me in the post a newspaper article entitled “Why are we all so tired?: What exhaustion is doing to your brain”. What would I do without her. 

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