25 March 2010 – it’s not what you know…

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The weekend is on the way and it’s a mad busy one. There’s an eye test, a hair cut and coffee with Mac to fit in not to mention Wembley. It would have been handy if I could have got Monday off really, I’m going to be exhausted. Goodness only knows how I coped when I had two day weekends, even with three I’m struggling to do everything.

There were flowers outside the fire station this morning. For the girl on the bike I suppose. A bunch was tied on the railings by the junction too when I passed. It made me think how life can change in the blink of an eye. One minute you’re going about your business singing to yourself, the next…who knows. Right now I seem to be spending way too much of the precious time I have sitting in that horrible brown building getting yelled at. Life is certainly too short for that.

At lunchtime Primo, Panda, Rae and I were sitting outside on the steps trying to soak up a little sun while there was some. We were chatting a bit between sitting quietly enjoying the sun on our faces when suddenly Amy appeared.
“Long weekend for me,” she said squashing herself between us.
“Three days isn’t as long as you think,” I said with my own manic plans in mind.
“I’ve got four this week. Got Monday off for an audition.”
“It’s not what you know but who you know,” Panda said.
“Or who you sleep with,” Primo whispered in my ear.
Amy looked puzzled for a moment but then carried on, “if I get it it could lead to bigger things. Of course I need to get an outfit. Presentation is everything. I mean, it’s not like here where no one seems to care what they look like. For a start I need some new leggings, these are getting all baggy even though they’re size ten. Maybe I need an eight. ”
“The thing with leggings,” Panda said, “is they stretch. It’s amazing what you can squeeze yourself into with Lycra.”
The insult passed right over Amy’s head. “I don’t know how you can put up with yours being all baggy and saggy,” she said, pointing at my stretchy denim jeggings, which were, frankly, past their best and at least a size too big.
“That’s because I’ve lost a lot of weight,” I said feeling quite insulted.

In the car on the way home tonight Rae turned to me and said, “Amy isn’t really a size ten is she?”
“In her dreams,” I replied. “One leg might be size ten I suppose but Panda’s right, those leggings hide a multitude of sins.”
“Oh good, only if she was a size ten and her bum looked that big then I was worried what mine looked like at size eighteen.”

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