Diary of a redundant writer: Day two

diary of a redundant writer

This is just going to be a quick one because I’ve just seen the time! Not that I need a reasonable bedtime now that I’m ‘superfluous’. 

It’s the end of my second day of redundancy. I cleared out our spare room, dismantled my drum kit and piled it on top of the wardrobes to make space for a desk. Now I have a nice little make-shift office…

diary of a redundant writer

I put some of my text books from uni on the shelf behind me to make it feel more officy and remind myself that I used to have a purpose.

My guinea pigs live in this room too so I’ve felt a bit like I’m in a nature documentary all day, as if I’m in a hide watching what really goes on in the animal kingdom behind closed doors. They don’t do much to be honest. The life of a guinea pig seems to be quite pleasant. Nap, eat, strut around the cage making rumbling noises, eat, nap, run about, squeak. Like a rodent version of the Fatboy Slim song. No office politics here, or altercations about who’s turn it is to make tea (it’s always mine) lazy bastards.

 

panda and valentino-01

In other news, I have an interview with the job centre tomorrow. How depressing having to go through that old rigmarole again. Last time I signed up for the dole I was advised to make a second CV, this time omitting my English degree and journalism accreditation, focusing instead on all the valuable housekeeping experience I have. Not that I’m against working in hotels again, I always found it quietly pleasing rifling through people’s stuff. I just can’t quite remember why I spent the best part of £30,000 on my education…

Anyway, sleep time. Thanks for reading!

 

Published by Zoe

28 years old, trained journalist, professional writer and aspiring novelist. I'm based in the beautiful English town of Eastbourne, I have two guinea pigs who live in my spare room, and I love food. Not cooking it, just eating it. I also like beer and staring out to sea.

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