Hours and hours and hours

Because I'm a forgetful idiot, yesterday when I ordered a coffee at Starbucks I forgot to ask for decaf. I realised before I drank it but because I didn't want to waste it (even though I'd wasted £2.25 on something I didn't need already), and lo, how I paid. I slept from between 2-4am, then zombied my way to work where, incredibly, I managed to stay quite alert. I tried getting some kind of make-you-drowsy medicine, similar to what I'd taken on a nightmare flight between San Francisco and London, but apparently taking stuff like that isn't conducive to staying seizure free. This means I am stuck tweaking my already pretty perfect sleep routine of warm milk with amaretto, breathing exercises and reading. I am ready to drink the bottle of lavender I bought if it'll take the edge off.

I do have one reason to be thankful, however: because I've been going in hyper early and leaving at 4pm this week, I missed the months worth of rain that fell over London during the rush hour yesterday. I did, however, cut the roof of my mouth later that night on a bit of pastry made, in retrospect totally, by the mirana.

This afternoon on my trek home from the station, I sawa dog that looked like a shaved old English sheepdog straddling the front and back seats of an old Mercedes. I tried not to look suspicious, but not taking a photo was absolutely beyond my restraint.

On the way I also saw a man whose face had the expression I can only liken to that of a crazed loon (eyes popping out of his head, teeth like something iron-aged and generally a look of discomfort in his own skin), and a man who appeared to have stolen a child. Of course, I did nothing about any of these because by the time I'd reached ye olde Welwyn Garden City, I'd lost all speech skills. I grunted my request for dinner; thankfully my younger sister is also a grunter so she was able to understand that I wanted a jacket potato with beans and cheese.

Success

Having snaffled an internship at Cancer Research UK's internet and new media department, the last week has been spent looking out of train windows, organising nightly search parties in my wardrobe to seek out things that are a. office-suited and b. do not make the obscene heat in London any worse, and trying to remember lots of names.

The first two days were spent watching lots of presentations about the company and participating in lots of 'interactive' activities with my fellow interns, but since properly starting in the office I've found myself working on a few genuinely interesting and challenging tasks. I hadn't expected to find myself at the photocopier for eight hours a day, but it's been a pleasant surprise to be given real responsibilities and the freedom to choose how I should work. While I value my previous work experience, it is really nice to not be tied to the administrative side of things. That said, the project I'll be working on takes some serious getting your head around, and sometimes I'll be sitting there working and I'll suddenly realise I don't know what I'm doing. My background is completely arts and admin-based, so to find myself in a more businessy-marketingy position feels quite strange and it will take some adjusting.

This week I'll be trying to get up at 5.30am to get the early train to work; if things go to plan I'll be home by 5.30 to catch some Friends and try to smash the shit out of Lego Star Wars on the Wii.