January. More depressing than a night in a mine shaft with Leonard Cohen. I must confess that dry January fell *slightly* awry at the weekend; but in my book, 14 days with no booze is almost as good as 31 days. Almost. OK, not at all. I can blame nobody but myself and the delicious wine menu at Cafe Tarifa on Cowley Road - oh, and the discount we were offered as we are such regulars. I didn't know whether to be delighted or appalled - I'll stick to the former methinks.
On a more positive note, I now have at least 3 months of work secured - going back to publishing sales - good money and surely less stressful than recruitment? Time will tell. In any case, has come at exactly the right time, before my account goes into the red. Have enjoyed living off Granny's money, but need to go back, head first into reality now. Finally, I can enjoy my last week of freedom, knowing that I will be earning money from next week. I have generally been appalled with the agencies I have signed up with (with notable exceptions as already mentioned); it has been a real eye opener seeing it as an actual candidate.
Anyway, am merely repeating myself and this is all utter self indulgent drivel so I will bid you goodnight and adieu - until next time.