General Musings

Oh dear, I have just realised that I haven't posted anything on here for over three weeks. I would have excuses but I really don't think there are any. The "I'm about to graduate" excuse has been sufficiently exhausted; I was using it to get out of yoga classes, parking tickets and, strangely, uni work. I still somehow find time to eat out though...

My house smells and I hate my landlord. I am almost certain he won't be reading this so I don't mind what I say. Who would become a landlord anyway? I always have them in mind as old men with a sagging gut, white string vest, questionable personal hygiene and as a compulsive smoker/liar/general vagrant. Of course in reality that hasn't been my experience of them. My first landlady was a woman of the manor from leafy Surrey. She was old and ever so slightly batty in the blue-blooded upper-class sense. She would present herself unannounced, usually in our bedrooms and usually whilst we were still occupying our beds, with the general greeting of 'cooeeey!'. At the time we lived with a French girl, Anne-Sophie, and our landlady, Mrs Todd, would tell her in a slow and patronizing manner to, I quote: "in your best English, call Matthew and tell him I am tending the garden." Anne Sophie would then yell "Maaaatttt" from the bottom of the stairs sending the seagulls into a frenzy.
I suppose my next landlord will be my father. He keeps assuring me that he's already rented out my room and I laugh half nervously in response - hopefully his humour is as sarcastic as I take it to be.

I am starting operation BBC today. I shouldn't be on here actually, I should be frantically thinking of personal attributes that would make me stand out from the crowd on an application form. It's all for work experience but obviously, being the Beeb, is outrageously competitive.
I saw a great looking work experience advertised yesterday for Channel 4, but it's only available to people from ethnic minorities. Clearly they have a quota to fill. What if I told them I'm a left-handed homosexual? no? well, what about 'I am from Clapham' -people from Clapham are certainly a minority, and a special one at that. OK, OK.

On a more serious note, if there are any broadcast journalists or media people reading this, what should I do? The whole process is lengthy and somewhat circular to say the least (I keep ending up at the same place). You're perhaps thinking I have ceased to make sense, probably owing to the ungodly hour that I woke up. I can't really think of anything else to say now. I just had a break from writing to eat soup and talk to Eva. Now I have broken the trail of thought. The day is getting on and I should get on with it too. I will write here more often from now on, there's a part of me that felt I should only write when there is something important or interesting to say but just any writing is practising a style n'est ce pas?
Thanks for reading.

PS: Eva, my housemate, says the interesting things to say are: "Eva is going running, Eva is going to the bathroom, Eva is taking a shower" for anyone wanting to keep track of her exciting and suspense-filled blog, you can find it lost somewhere in cyberspace.