Technically I could be in bed now, no work tomorrow or formidable assignments to hand in next week.  As of 12 o'clock this afternoon I started my weekly 1.5 holiday that my jobs afford me. 

Maybe I had already wailed about the horrendous assignment I had to do.  5000 words following a course that consisted basically of the teacher reading stuff out of 1 grammar book to us. Over the Xmas holiday I read several books and spend a lot of time mulling over whether I would a. fail the module (thus probably my MA) or b. give into the temptation to drop out.  But I surmounted the exponential learning curve and wrote the bastard, all 5000 words of it, and the result...will probably not get me failed.  That's enough.

How times have changed since the misery of the job centre, now employment barely gives me time to breathe.  Unfortunately most of the time is spent going to various jobs by foot bus or tube, preparing for work- whether it be lesson preparation of a quick memorization marathon of medical words from Chinese wikipedia, and getting tangled in these annoying things like 'meetings' and faxing invoices and various other unpaid work-related trials.  Work part-time/freelance and all these dull obligations are unpaid and threefold.  People tell me it's great that I'm not 'stuck in an office', but a bit of paper shuffling and pen pushing sounds like pure bliss compared to all this running around.

Thursday and Friday were good ones.  Work 12 - 5.30 in one job with but a 15 minute break in there, then speed across the city for another 6-8pm stint.  Doesn't sound so bad but it felt it, especially with mornings spent doing all the preparations for work and handing stuff in at uni and not time to eat.  On Friday I manged to squeeze out time to buy some food at about 11.50am but had no time to eat it until 8.30pm on the bus.  Sunday Sunday, the only day I can wear my normal cheapo clothes all day, oh sweet  joy.

During the week I was so busy that it got to the point that I had not one pair of undies left that had been worn for less that 2 days.  I had to schedule everything non urgent for the evenings after work and basic hygiene barely got a look in.  Yesterday after finishing my belated lunch on the bus I had to face the task of 'dumping' one of my 'boyfriend's.  That's not the kind of thing one wants to go through after the week I'd had, but I had to do it.  Poor kid didn't take it too well but he was fairly reasonable about it.  It was so heartbreaking, and more so as he has completely the wrong end of the stick about me.  He likes my creative side (what creative side!?!) and the fact that I just abandoned my life and went to China (what life was that?!?).  Furthermore, in an attempt to try and prove that the age difference doesn't matter, he seemed to embark on a tit-for-tat 'who's got the most life experience' contest with me.  Not really the best proof of your maturity level.  But I don't want to criticise him, he's a very lovely young man.  Young.

And as I walked home in along the dark streets thinking about the tasks I had to do before bed and the next morning's work, I saw a pub and wondered why, like the other ones I'd passed a few hours earlier, it seemed so busy in an era when pub patronage is sad to be on the decline.  Then I realised it was Friday night.

So while I'm at it, I'll tell you about the work I had on Wednesday morning.  It all started on Monday night, shortly after I'd finished work a lecturer, he of reading from a book at us all term fame, called me and told me there was someone who needed an interpreter, and a couple of calls later it was arranged.  The following morning I was whizzing towards zone 6, real uncharted territory.  I arrived early, which is another drawback of having lots of jobs, all the hanging around before work starts time is multiplied.  In fact, if you have a real workplace you can actually go and sit in your office or staff room rather than spending at least a cumulative hour each week lurking around corners and doorways sheltering from the rain and the rush of commuters heading homewards as you head workwards.  This time it was to my advantage though as I had enough time to visit a couple of shops and even score a bargain in the first sale I've had time to enter this season.

Then I spent a couple of hours in the citizens' advice bureau interpreting for a woman who was injured while at her exploitative job and was trying to get the most compensation possible for it.  It was quite sweet the way the tiny, well-wrapped lady clung to my arm afterwards as she led me to McDonalds, provided me with chicken wings then told me that she couldn't pay me anything until her case was settled, not even the 7 quid travelcard I needed to get there and back.  I'd actually expected that.  My years in China taught me that getting money in these situations is like climbing trees to catch fish, as the idiom goes.  However this kind of job isn't one I do for the money.  I just couldn't sit comfortably in my room knowing I could stepping out of my tiny job-uni-job-uni-job-job-job world and into someone else's life for a few hours.

The good news is that 3 out of 4 of my various official part time jobs are reliable in terms of pay.  A question mark still hangs over the 4th (and most regular).  I fear the invoice-style of remuneration.  Speaking of remuneration, I got a notification of payment for last month's interpreting.  17 whole pounds, coincidentally just after I got a letter demanding 17 pounds for NI contributions.  In the door and out the window.

I used to be rich you know.  Huh.