Lost: Mojito
In the interests of glastnost and other such late eighties ideals, I think I should be honest.
I feel a little down.
I don't know if it's the prospect of having a regular job (as opposed to waiting to be discovered in NW6) - I had a good interview this morning, and it's probable that I'll get to the second round, but it's a more junior job than my last job, but there aren't so many jobs around. Or it might be all this tosh-like joshing about the weblog competition has sent my mojo on vacation. Or it might be that I want to buy things - CDs, clothes, cars, large mansions, a real digital camera - and don't have the money. Or it might be seasonal; perhaps I'm affectively disordered by the promise of sunshine and the delivery of bleurghy almost-rain. Or maybe it's because I had a wonderful holiday last week and real life pales into insignificance. Or maybe it's because I'm a Londoner, though thankfully I can't sing.
Dunno.
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