So I said Harry Potter was exactly the same as Star Wars: now this.

I know I've been quiet - got back from Limmud and got stricken with some kinda lurgy. I am very pissed off as I have -n days till I have a real job, and don't want to spend my last few days of freedom throwing up and not being able to concentrate. You know when you move and then the contents of your head follow a few minutes later?

Jonny Freedland: Israel in Crisis
This post is a "work in progress" as I am bandwidth theiving as I was trying hard to be tech free for a week, and someone needs their laptop back soon.

Jonny talked incredibly fluidly about The Situation, and the diasporic response, giving me a huge amount of food for thought.

The analogy he uses is that of your friend driving a car driving towards a cliff edge - do you stand and watch? Or do you tell them to stop, or, if need be, grab the wheel?

Today, I discovered I'm a neo-hasid. Hearing Arthur Green talk about Neo-Hasidism: A Jewish Theology for our Times, was pretty mind-blowing. Not least because I studied his book - Tormented Master - in college, x years ago; he posisted interesting, universal questions in an innovative, warm way. Said that the twentieth century Jewish theologica questions were essentially around providence and authority, and that the twenty-first century theological issue of choice will be about creation; trying to find a religious/spiritual re-reading of the darwinian account. I guess this ties in with the almost post-apocalyptic, post 9/11 stuff that goes on. I also found out, which I never knew, that he counts among his teachers Alexander Altmann, who used to live accross the road from my Mum when she was a kid.

So... a quick Limmud update. There's something very full-on about being with approximately 2,200 Jews for nigh on five days, 24-7. It's good, don't get me wrong, but I find that I feel less sociable, rather than more. So there's lots of people to hang out with - and I had a great conversation in the bar - BarMidBar - with some guy who'd been to Uman and done a bunch of other stuff I was into.

I guess I'm... learning that I'm not as much of a party person as I maybe thought. Maybe I've even lost the art of small talk, who knows. One thing that has happened, is that I suspect the demographic of Limmud has changed over the years - it used to feel like mostly people my kinda age, but as it's got more popular, and people in their twenties and thirties are more likely to arbitrage their holiday arrangements, by the time they get to book, there's no places left. I have run into three people who recongise my family name, and knew my Dad at college. And a whole bunch of distant and not-so-distant relatives.

It's so great being in a Christmas-free zone. Though I did get one Christmas present before I left - my first and probably only in my life; Donna Tart's new book - and I can see how people get a taste for receiving things they want.

OK, I'm here at Limmud. Got up at the crack of dawn - 7am - got on a coach, arrived here at twelve-ish, and I'm already mindblown with intellectual activity. Heard Robert Fisk on Monitoring the Centres of Power - surprisingly, I found myself agreeing with nearly everything he said. He's a very powerful, entertaining speaker, and clearly put together a talk that was dedicated to ensuring that all right-thinking left-leaning Jews couldn't argue with him. I still suspect that his premise is that the State of Israel shouldn't exist.

Followed that with Norman Lebrecht on Writing About Jews: a little disappointing after Fisk's gargantuan intellect, and seemingly based on the context of UK Jews being "embarassed by the creators in their midst." Which I don't buy - that's a post-war "shhh, don't rock the boat approach" that younger people just don't even understand.

Run into a hundred and one old friends and acquaintances, and am already feeling slightly Limmud-ed out. But I have brought my trainers - planning to go for a run every morning. Let's see if I can stick to it.

I just want it to be known that when I have a job, I don't want Christmas rammed down my throat, and have to do enforced jollity and sent Christmas cards to people I like sit next to, and have to be in a stupid office secret santa scenario. I'm just saying.

Hi-speed today: hung out with B and J at the JC for a little while, saw Eight Women at the Tricycle with J - bizarrely, ironically, musically disappointing - and then foraged for Lebanese food at the bottom of the Edgware Road.

Just heard a thing on the radio about Robert Service - the people's poet, who apparently inspired Lennon and McCartney and Disney (Desperate Dan) among others.

Despite two inbound phonecalls, my new answerphone thingy has not arrived. Quel surprise.

I am so efficient (read, imminently not going to be master/mistress of my own time) - today I have: sorted my tax affairs, written some copy, got my hair coloured, put my washing on, lined up some remaining January freelance work, sorted out the legals on my new contract, stopped my new team hiring two people I haven't met yet (but in a really, really nice way), introduced two people in the same arts sector, just about to do my nails and get some... girly stuff done (a leg waxing, if you must know). Off to Limmud on Sunday.

HIGNFY was fantastic! No time for detailed review, but watch it tonight at 9.30 - you probably won't be able to see me, P, B and J, as we were right on the back row in the corner. Paul Merton is a god.

OK, I'm off out. Last in the series of Have I Got News for You. Paul is waiting for me. And no, my new answerphone hasn't arrived.

One cool thing about getting a job: my sister bought me a mini celebratory bottle of champagne, and the Trinny/Susanna book. Not that I need any sartorial advice, of course, I'm a style guru.

I think I might be having second thoughts about the job - I keep thinking about things that aren't perfect about it/need fixing. Which I guess is why they've hired me, but I think I'm going to be working very, very hard for the next six months.

This morning I wrote two lots of tech copy, and some jokey content for a website, and I liked it. And I did it in Manchester. You can hardly do that with a real job.

It is the right decision. It is the right decision.

OK, off to get a train. Paul Merton beckons.

One other thing...
Remember that woman who erroneously informed my Mother that I'm a lesbian? Well, whe I was in the hairdresser's yesterday, I saw the Mother of the original source of the gossip - P. But I said nothing - sometimes you just have to let go.

So, the job.
Crack of dawn meeting with my new boss. It's all agreed now, I'm just waiting for the contract. Like most jobs, there are some things about it which are imperfect, but there's enough of a challenge to keep my excited.

The plan is to finish my short contract on 7th February, going on a short, relaxing holiday, and start properly on 19th Feb. I've negotiated with my short-contract people that I can do a day a week with my new job people from February. Also, I have a few small copywriting things to finish. I feel in some ways, kinda sad... the freelance stuff is just picking up - I got offered more work for January this morning, which I'm going to have to turn down, and I think all that time of building something is kinda wasted, but there are no guarantees with freelance, and I do miss running a business/having an intellectual challenge.

Anyway, back to work, talk to you later.

So I ordered my new phone/answerphone Monday on the basis it would arrive Tuesday, which it didn't. Wednesday, they emailed me to say it had been despatched and I could put my unique consignment number into the delivery outsourcers POD and track my delivery. The answer I get is not blowing in the wind, it's "your consignment number does not exist". Which I think means it hasn't actually been despatched. Which means, if it's despatched today, it probably won't arrive before I go away for... that seasonal holiday this time of year. Lucky my old one came back to life, then.

Manchester, So Much to Answer For
In the words of the song (incidentally, when I was at Manchester University, Morrisey's auntie worked in the refectory. People used to point and stare).

So yesterday, after finally agreeing my new job - I start in the middle of February - I hopped on a train, Manchester-bound, to surprise my Dad for his birthday. I fitted in a lot of stuff: hanging out with my Mum, getting my haircut (in a place where I have, sporadically, been getting my hair cut since I was 18), admiring my brother and sister-in-law's new house, and my sister and brother-in-law's new TV and lounge.

Oh, and I'm still here. I'm sitting at my sister's computer, checking my mail, and going to do some (copywirting) work before I get a lunchtime train. There are many advantages to this way of life, but I'll talk about my job in a minute.

Surprising my Dad was great - my Mum booked a table for seven at Heathcotes, in town, which turned out not to be a surprise, because she left a note on my Dad's desk that said "Heathcotes, 7.30, Wednesday." My Mum persuaded me to call my Dad on the way there, about 7ish, and pretend I was still in London and just say happy birthday, and I found it quite hard not to giggle. I guess neither me nor my Mum will make it in M15.

Heathcotes is very Mad-chester media trendy - apart from us. My brother described it as media folk with too much money on their hands, and it does have that feel about it; I half expected to see the cast of any number of BBC Manchester shows. Anyway, we had a great evening, and I got up at 6am to say goodbye to everyone. Good practice for getting a job.