Catch of the Day

One thing I predicted correctly: that I would be running about all over London, sweatily, in August, looking for work.  Today it was Finchley to Tooting, some 18 miles apart and, fortunately, joined by the long black leg of the Northern line.  I wish I could tell you everything is working out OK.  At the moment, I have no idea what is happening, where I'll be next week, or what I'll be doing.  I have not had this level of uncertainty in my life for decades.

There have been four agency interviews and two actual job interviews in the last two weeks.  Once upon a time you turned up at a temp agency, flailed away at a keyboard for a bit, and then they sent you to a job.  Now, it's pretty much like going for a real job in that you have to be shortlisted and interviewed by the employer, even for a two-month booking.  Today I had what seemed like a very positive interview for a six-month booking.  I can no longer tell if I've done well at interviews.  The agencies, on the whole, seem very keen to place me somewhere and think I have a great CV.  But it's like someone telling you what a great catch you are, and yet somehow you never end up in a net. 

Still, I am pleased to be back in London.  Brussels, for reasons I cannot explain, never felt safe.  Here, I can happily stand in Holborn at night, waiting for a bus to take me to the northern reaches of the city, and it just feels like home.  This huge, unwieldy, messy city is where my roots are deep.  London is my universe.