I don’t know if you’ve ever listened to Terri Clark’s (a country singer by the way, with a very cool cowboy hat) song ‘Working Girl’ but it’s definitely one of my favourites.
Anyway, there is some point to this post before you start wondering just what the hell I’m on about. No, not an amazing point, but one worth mentioning. Or something.
So today, October 8th marks the anniversary of when I started working. My second anniversary because I have now been a working girl for three years! Shocking!
Yep, that’s right. I started working when I was sixteen and haven’t stopped since.
I’ve actually been with the same company for my entire working ‘life’ although I’m currently in a different division to the one I started in, and now live in a completely different part of the country. So I’m loyal, you see?
My only regret of starting work so young is that I am unlikely to stop working until I retire. Which is a shame really. Although I didn’t have to work when I was sixteen, when I moved out from my mother’s at the age of seventeen I did have to work to pay rent every week. It was a necessity!
So now that I haven’t (thankfully) moved back to living with mother dearest, I still have to pay rent, and still have to work in order to live!
Up until about a month ago I was part time, but for just this year (until next September) I’m now full time whilst I take a year out and get some – wait for it – money behind me!
My advice to you, the young, innocent teen websurfer is this: don’t start working until you truly, desperately have to. There is more worth in enjoying the time of your youth than earning cash just to blow on current trends you don’t actually like.
I do wish I’d waited to start working until I had a need to earn money, but it did mean that when I moved out I had a stable company to transfer jobs with at a time I did actually need money.
So young’ns. Think very carefully before taking up that Saturday job you’ve been tempted by. Do you really need the money that badly?
And there ain’t no time for a working girl.
Alas! English weather isn’t as pants as we all thought! *cough* OK, it isn’t as bad as I thought. *cough* OK, OK, it’s bad, but there are the odd exceptions. Today, and the previous two days being such exceptions. Why?
We’ve had sunshine! SUN! Suitably warm/mildly hot temperatures! Why… I’m almost tempted to think summer has arrived late! Well, it hasn’t because now it’s all going back to the best of British tomorrow. (Ie, pants.) I say summer has come late because well, last year we all got flooded and this year although the rain fall was much less, the hours of sunshine didn’t improve.
Two years without a real summer! It’s driving this girl crazy…
Any who, enough complaining you English arse. Yes, so woot sun for the weekend. Of course, I only managed to enjoy it (for part of) today, due to the annoyance that is work. Never mind.
So whilst I was working home from work today (keeping in mind today was my day off) a sudden flash of thunder and lightning struck! Oh, wait… no, that was just my brain cranking round some old childhood memories…
You see, whilst it was very sunny and the sky was pure blue (with no clouds in sight) there was a slight chilliness to the temperature. I haven’t experienced those three variables together like that since I was a wee lad. *cough* I mean wee lass…
Many many moons ago yours truly lived in a predominantly Christian village. I know how it sounds, but it’s what I know as my childhood – seems perfectly normal! Any who, due to this religious factor most, if not all residents of this wee little village attended the service on Sundays, every week, without fail.
Yes. That includes me – until my parents started drifting apart from each other.
Now it’s all very queer because quite literally every Sunday morning was the same. Sunny, slightly chilly, but oh so relaxing! I don’t actually remember it ever raining on a Sunday back then. (Peculiar much?).
So this morning, it felt literally the same (oh, and there were Church bells a-ring-a-ding-dinging. Real bells, not the weirdness America has) as back then. So much so that I suddenly felt like I was seven years old and walking to Church with my parents and sister. Then I realised that wasn’t the case and stopped kicking the conkers on the floor, to the relief of the elderly Church-goers walking past me.
Wow. What an exciting post. Crikey, what’s going on?!
I’m tellin’ ya, sunshine does weird things to those English folk. The British aren’t coming, they’re going insane! 
(You love us really).
She is a wee bit crazy, hyper, random and generally rather odd. But perhaps just a typical English twenty year old gal?
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