Fear not, dear reader, your intrepid traveller has finally got himself a job. It would appear that five years of further education and seven years of experience working for the BBC wasn't all for nothing after all - from Tuesday to Thursday next week I will be greeting people at a conference and showing them to their seats for $11 an hour. What can I possibly say? What can anyone say? What would you say? Never did I dream that I could reach the dizzy heights of 'bottom coordinator' at such an early stage in my Canadian career, but it turns out there is a dream, and I'm living it. Well, at least it's a start and maybe I'll meet some glorious benefactor who'll recognise my untapped potential and immediately employ me as the next 'Apprentice' for a six figure salary. Maybe. Anyway, watch this space for further job updates.
As well as obtaining gainful employment this week, I also move into a private room tomorrow - those who've been trudging through this bilge regularly will know this has been on top of my ambitions list since I got here and makes me very happy indeed. Over the past few weeks I have been searching for a room in a shared house, but have invariably come across either unsuitable places or unsuitable people to share those spaces with. Those recently rejected have included:
One eggy-smelling flea pit in whoresville.
One enormous-arsed 48-year-old and her cat, who didn't even have a bed for me.
One unfinished underground dungeon-style room with a family of simpletons. And,
One student digs with worrying amounts of Christian iconography.
Needless to say, none of these made the grade - although the enormous-arsed woman's cat was a rather friendly chap and we hit it off famously. Becoming desperate I started to consider a colossal Irish guy's offer, made to me a few weeks ago, to stay in his place for a reasonable price. He was quite an unsavoury fella though with an impenetrable accent and sadly I don't think he viewed me in the same way I did his accent. Worried for my innocence, but also for my sanity staying in the hostel world, I was just about to clench tight and accept the offer when I met a girl who worked in a student halls and was scouting around for people to live in the halls over the summer. So it's back to a halls life for me! 10 years after I left the now infamous Student Village in Lower Chatham Street (you know who you are, Village People) I'm returning to a place remarkably similar. Didn't see that one coming, that's for sure. Should certainly be interesting, anyway, and they have a roof terrace with free barbecues available - can't be bad. Can it? Once again, we'll see.
Just one comment about the locals this week - they really are sticklers for the 'wait till the green man lights up before crossing the road' culture here. I thought Germany was bad about that, but yesterday - when it was plainly obvious there was no traffic coming and the green man was merely moments from lighting up - I began crossing the road and was stared at open-mouthed by a group of locals who looked as though I'd burst in on Christmas Day and tried to tune into The Archers on Grandma's tits. I even heard an audible tut. People, I implore you further.
Feedback, people, feed back. Bye for now.
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