So, it's 3.12 and my interview was this morning. But there are no more nails (or cuticles) to chew and I'm not allowed to drink at work, so I'm trying very hard to be patient. I called my old friends at the tax office to kill some time, but now I'm just waiting to go home and attack something liquid with N.

My preparations yesterday were spot on. N and I met at Harbour Town and for the price of a new suit (ok, not quite that much!) I went like a whirlwind through shops selling lacy smalls. At home there was Old Well, grilled fish, grilling for the interview and a delectable foot massage before sleep. I felt relaxed and beautiful.
And then it was 4am and I was wide awake and my heart felt like it wanted to exit stage left.

The interview itself was short. I don't know if that's a good thing or not, but I have never felt quite this comfortable before. Now it's just a matter of waiting.

post interview, I went for a coffee with Bernie, who talked to me like a man about football. I am all prepared with my knowledgable statements for Saturday. We have a solid back line. Stuff like that.

There has been a lot of work this week, which has been welcome, partly to distract my overworked mind and heart, and partly to stop me fretting about the job. But the weekend looms welcome and close.