The Car Boot Sale

So yes it's a cute dog, but is it really news? It is news when it's on the front page, and funny when some papers choose the cute shot and others not. I was news once remember, now I'm just on my nan's wall. Anyway, I've recently thought getting a dog would be ok. I don't know what it was that made the change. I used to hate the scraggy dirty heavy things, but, kept at a distance, treated like a person, maybe ok. Not like dressing it up and things, just not having it lick your face. That is a cute dog. Maybe it's just literally happened this week, having the house to myself, thinking it would be nice to have something else alive in it, albeit something that can't speak. I'm liking the peace. I would also like to be able to pick up the dog with one hand.

There is a new car boot sale at Princess May Primary School. I couldn't be more pleased. Every Sunday from this day forward, I only have to roll, not even out of my street, to find treasure. Get up for 9, or you're missing out. Great news. The most bizarre melange though. A weird mix of poor poor Dalston and yuk riche Stoke Newington, Princess May Road is most truly where the two meet. The point is illustrated perfectly in my purchses of 80p tissues and £3 Toast silver silk top I nearly bought from Selfridges last year. It's a bit of a joke and I didn't buy it full price, but at three quid I'm happy enough to stick a stick in the car boot economy and swirl it round. The girl went back to reading her book, told me to enjoy it, and I am right now, wearing it over my dress for no reason.

There are tribes at car boot sales, tribes and trends. There are the poor people with loads of shit, trying to sell some shit to buy more shit. There are people with a grotesque spread of pink and white and plastic, they've got a not-so-small daughter. There are people who look like they put their entire house through a sieve and brought along the craziest remnants they didn't know they had. There was a vintage girl and a flea guy at this one. It might've been rude but I wore headphones the whole time, as I was listening to Woman's Hour. I found it successful in blocking out potential haranguing and it also made me quicker at the supermarket the other day.

Ah I am already loving my week off. I love being peaceful, cooking lazily, reading things, being informed, writing things though it's hard. This interview is a monster. It's so difficult, I didn't even imagine. I didn't think it was just going to roll off the tongue, but it feels closer to an academic essay than I thought it would. Remember I've never done it before though, so in a way it's a milestone. I wouldn't mind working for Wired. I think it's pretty ace actually. Though I doubt there's a place for any of us now and maybe I should just go into poetry instead and keep the creative side alive, instead of sitting on it with misplaced hopes of payment as reward. But strangely, it has rather spurred me on to want to do well despite the whole situation. If someone tells me not to bother, I'm going to do in anyway, and try twice as hard.