When I handed in my Masters thesis last year I fled the country and went on a three week holiday to Sydney. When I was back in London I got a job within a weeks time. Getting a job in April 2008 seemed like an easy task - go to a few interviews, chose a favorite, start working, thank you very much!
This is my first Monday ever as unemployed, and the feeling is strange. It is not at all like having another Sunday for leisure but rather feeling guilty of calling in another one of those suspicious sick-days. Or perhaps like being a student, dossing around the house, knowing that I really should be in the library.
At least I have a new full time hobby. It is called "thinking of ways to find my next job; more fun and better paid than my last". I almost added the word desperately, but decided not to. It just doesn't sound right.
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any sydney mustn't misses, miss hall? i am headed there in march :)
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