Fantastic Disaster

You might know that I've spent this last week or so looking for work. Today, I am very happy.

I have failed.

I have gloriously failed. I've hauled my sorry carcass to enough carnivals of despair to justify throwing up my hands and going "I tried, oh lord how I did try". Now I can gleefully ignore the real world for a little longer- at least until Summer, I'd have thought.

There are downsides, of course. For example, there's half a pack of digestives in the cupboard. They're the last biscuits I'm going to buy until February. I'm still debating whether to forgo beer altogether, or allow myself £3 a week for a pint at the Cricketer's Arms quiz. I suspect the answer is no- no beer for me, not until my income exceeds my spending.

Kids and people, it's a good thing I paid all our internet bills at the start of the year. Living entirely on a diet or rice and OXO is one thing, but going without my projection on the world of data is quite another.

you sold your silence