Fatima’s next job

A couple of early phone calls. The first one was telling me I was supposed to be invigilating (oops). It’s a good thing that Imperial College is so close to my flat. I was up – just hadn’t written it in my diary. Shifts have been pretty scarce recently and my mechanisms have slipped as my priorities have shifted to more reliable ways of earning in the gaps. I jumped in the car. As I was driving up the other call came in and someone is gonna shove a camera down my neck in Paddington on Friday morning. When I took one up the arse I had to change my diet and then drink something that made me extremely void down below. It seems when they shove it down the other hole they don’t need you to get ready. I’ll just lie back and say “aaaah” and pretty shortly thereafter I’ll be able to stop worrying about this neck discomfort. Interesting.

Shift done I had a little wander about the streets, round by the Albert Hall and up into Hyde Park, then back through the charity shops in Bute Street and to a quick coffee at Pret. I like it round South Ken and it is close to home.

Home then and settling in with the cats. No Brian and Maddy all day and so I just got antisocial with the cats and booted up my new laptop and tried to get things running and shifted across which is always a slow and annoying business but I’m very glad to not have the old one anymore – admin should be possible once more hurray!

I refilled my carousel of pills. Some of the stuff I’m taking at the moment is just because it was in my friend’s fridge and he asked me to chuck it. I don’t even know what Chromium Picolinate is for. Glug. Turmeric and Bee Propolis and Magnesium Citrate. Aloe Vera? Cognitive enhancers and men’s health things and biotics. Collagen. I should be able to fly before long.

While I wait though I’ll have a little snooze and a cup of chamomile. Another quiet day. “For people in The Arts its just about surviving 2025,” a friend said to me yesterday. She’s right. We are in peak Fatima’s next job could be in cyber territory now. Je ne suis pas Fatima.

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Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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