I really shouldn't be writing this. In 10 minutes I am supposed to be meeting some people to engage in some firework viewing, but before then I'm supposed to have eaten dinner. Beans on toast, if you're interested. Thought not.
That pretty much sums up how things are going at the moment. Dont for a second get the impression that I am not thrilled to now be living in Edinburgh. Everything here is as I had hoped. But having made my mind up many months ago to leave Brighton and my hoardes of amazing friends (and we are talking grade A pals) on a whim, I find myself scratching my head and wondering what I left for.
Oh yes. Hope of earning around 3 pounds more an hour. Boy, 8 quid an hour seems like such a prospect.
My flat is in the best spot ever. I live in a quiet spot situated on the very edge of the main streets in town. I can be at all the major spots in a few minutes walk. My flat is also large, and relatively cheap. Though my flatmate and old friend requisitioned the main bedroom, complete with multiple windows, beautifully curved walls and large built-in wardrobe, whilst I habit the smaller, grimier and quite frankly grade B prison cell. There's a radiator in a really awkward place. You know how it is.
In terms of job prospects, I've been told by several people that jobs await me either in bars or shops or restaurants. But the idea of getting a job through a mate seems a bit trite. So insteas I've been cursing at my situation. Too proud to ask for a job from a friend; too apathetic to search for a job on my own. Making me an absolute tosser.
In any case. Beans on toast awaits. I just spent 6 pounds on some anti-dandruff shampoo. I don't really even get dandruff. It's for if one day I wake up surrounded by thousands of flakes and I freak out. As if I wouldn't be able to leave the house for being buried alive. God.
