Now. I know that I said I would take any job and not be precious about the whole thing when I got back to London, but that training session today took the fucking biscuit.

I seriously do not think I will be able to handle pouring champagne in a particular way so that rich bastard wankers like Elton John or the Queen don't complain about my service. I also would not be able to handle having the length of my shirt-sleeves dictated to me. I also would not be keen on dressing as a Bunny Girl. I'm not going back.

The tubes are absolutely up the spout (District line - severley fucked, Northern line - severely fucked also) and I got solicited in a vile manner on the way to said training session in the leafy Fulham suburbs by a middle aged creep in tweed. Why so guys do that? Did he seriously think I would say "Oh yeah ok, you seem nice, let's go down that alley and fuck?" Cha.

Also, I threw a cup of coffee into my lap and handbag whilst sharing what I had with a tramp in Angel.

However, there were bright spots to my day - Aced an interview for a job that I actually want this morning. Hopefully I will get that and not have to dress as a subservient Bunny Girl - ever.

And, was serenaded on the tube by a busker who performed "Man Who Sold the World" Aw how lovely. I think he serenaded me as I was the only person on the carriage who acknowledged his existence, let alone smiled at him.

Right, anyway, my spleen is adequately vented and I am going to relax in the best way I can think of.