I'm surreptitiously writing this at work and in fact, I feel far too furtive...I may have too keep this brief, and passing short. This is my final day, glory be, as a temp at a solicitor's office in Saaaf Landan. As of Tuesday, I'll be back in Holborn, happily surrounded by impoverished literary dreamers, all hoping to break into publishing, all making do with a customer service-y job at an admittedly gorgeous book company. So. No. Not an editorial job, but it's a toe in the door of publishing and companies like Faber might rather like that I'm there. However! The main glorious advantage is the working hours - 8am - 2pm one week, 2pm -8pm the next! Pretty awesome. I must must must make use of this time. I had pie-in-the-sky dreams of maybe doing an MA but now I'm more realistically thinking of editorial courses or at the very least unpaid work in an editorial office. This is the one Definite Thing that I can achieve. Write reviews of whatever takes my fancy. Books, exhibitions, bars, theatre, dance, the sea...anything...
I'll stop my rambling here for it's pretty self-absorbed stuff and I can't ignore the, sigh, filing anymore.