Week two of the Atkins diet and today I was working in the Gosport office for the whole day. I took all my meaty supplies with me though, two cold sausages, some squares of cheddar cheese and a little bag of mini baby bel. Goodness me it seemed like a long day after just working mornings for so long. It was pretty strange being in an office with loads of other people too (OK, not exactly loads, there were all of five of us but I’ve got used to just me and Mac), really noisy and distracting. I just got my head down and got on with the job in hand because it all seemed to be office politics and bitching from where I was sitting. I almost didn’t want to leave to go to the loo because I was sure they’d start on me if I did. Honestly, as soon as someone went out the door everyone else started having a pop about them.
Jolie picked me up this morning and drove me home tonight. She’s got a really cool Merc with an electric sunroof. It even has electric seat belt things that bring the seat belt out for you when you get in the car, how bourgeois is that? I’d love one, although it wouldn’t do me much good because I don’t drive. On the way back she said, “If Sadie decides to come back from her maternity leave you could always come and work out here with us. I’d give you a full time job any day.” I pointed out that, as I don’t drive it would be a bit tough to get there but she had an answer for that. “I wouldn’t mind picking you up and dropping you off. You’re only down the road from me. Anyway, you could always take your test.”
Hmm. I suppose I could. When I was in my teens I used to ride a motorbike. I was a proper biker chick, can you believe it? So I never learned to drive a car. Mother didn’t drive. We always walked everywhere or got a bus. Once I had the boys, and gave up my bike because it’s a bit hard strapping a baby on the back with a bungee cord, there was no money for lessons. Commando’s always been the designated driver in our house and I get along fine on my own two feet or the bus, just like Mother (perish the thought). I guess now I have all that redundancy money quietly sitting there I could afford lessons and a licence would help me get another job. I’m really scared of it though. A car is a dangerous weapon and I can be a real scatty moo at times. It’s a scary combination.