Jun. 12th, 2012

burntcopper: (Default)
So, workstuff: I have been applying for jobs. Some are not in publishing and are at places like Museum of London. Some are publishing but at the Royal Academy of Art. Some are publishing and... I got my first interview yesterday and there's nothing quite like feeling for your heart sink on walking in and answering questions (especially about the print side which I have no idea about, I worked on the digital side) to tell you how much you don't like it. So please, can I get a job at the Museum of London or Tower of London in something that is not publishing? Failing that, Royal Academy-type. publishing with an interesting subject. In a nice place.

The interview - I have no idea. tiny company, depressing crowded with furniture basement rooms, I am shit at faking lack of knowledge, probably babbled in the other bits, and said um a lot. I could *definitely* give a clear, detailed answer about procedure on 'editor screams omg what did you do post publishing'. Oh, and gave Miss Piggy as my 'person who inspires you'.

Village fete was strangely disorganised this year. Though we did get what seemed to be the only sun for an entire week. and the country. Even if it was very gusty. The stalls were there, the band tent, the dragon boat racing and the food and beer tent and emergency services display, the coconut shy and the climbing wall all ran absolutely fine, it's just that they seemed to have completely forgotten to do anything for the centre roped off bit. No vikings, no morris dancers - okay, you have to book those, but there wasn't even the dog race. or the kiddy stuff. Or the welly wanging. In the most holy name of the WI, there wasn't even the tug of war between the pub teams. Mostly it was just a few kids kicking a ball around.

Immense fun, just completely without that most traditional of sounds, the ear-piercing shriek of the sound system feedback or anyone making announcements. Bands were local bands who played in tune, there was curry, there was Pimms, there was cake (caaaake), bought some jewellery (which I hope I remember to give mum one set of earrings for birthday), and as usual the scout group make bloody brilliant bacon sandwiches. And dad, when poking aroudn the local habitat documentation stall, picked up the rocks holding the leaflets down and licked them. At which point someone said 'geologist or geophysicist?'

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burntcopper

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