Friday, 18 November 2011


In addition to my excellent tightrope-walking skills, I seem also to be juggling with invisible balls.  Some might say that invisible balls are better than none.  I could not possibly comment on that.

I've been looking for work in Brussels since the summer.  I came within licking-distance of a job with some Tories but I think that under my sober black frock they could probably see my socialist leanings and, wisely, they did not give me the job.  

I am still casting a longing eye at NATO and EC jobs and scoffing gently at the filing jobs (yes, filing jobs) which require one to speak three languages.  The reality is, my boxes and I will be moving on 4 January and I need work. 

There have always been things that, traditionally, women have fallen back on for an income.   Taking in laundry, sewing funeral clothes, humping in alleys.  I don't think I'll go down those routes.  My childcare skills have not left me and I like children very much.  So it is in this area I am looking.  Several families have expressed an interest but as yet nothing has actually been offered.

I will be popping to Brussels in December to meet with certain families and hopefully then things will firm up a little.  Of course, it's hard for them to offer their progeny into my hands unless they've met me and seen that I'm quite nice and not like Billie Whitelaw in the Omen.  But it means that until late December I will still not know if I'm going to be working, and where, and for whom.

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