Though you may be forgiven for not being aware of the fact, I am a technological genius. There was a computer problem and I fixed it. Me. All by myself. Without the help of any male. Not even Thomas.

I didn't talk about Thursday's magic interview, cos I didn't want to jinx things, but despite the presence of Strange, I somehow managed to get the job! Which pleased me greatly, as you can imagine. The interview was very weird though. Usually, interviews start with them telling you all about the job, which you listen to with your 'that would be challenging yet rewarding' face on, then they ask you what you think, and you're so flummoxed by the new information you just mumble something stupid about challenges and rewards, and then they tend to grill you about why you should dare think yourself worthy to be part of so prestigious an organisation, and then they tell you they want someone older/more experienced/who can start immediately/more qualified/less qualified, and you go away and eat chocolate. However, the crucial grilling stage was missing, which meant we went straight to 'well, can you come back tomorrow to sort out the contract' without me getting a chance to clarify that I was only around for a short time. However, I explained this all (with the help of a small white lie) and am now spending 8 hours every Tuesday teaching people in a pharmaceutical firm how to use the telephone until the end of July.

Further potential telephonic excitement may await, with some roadside assistance firm, but this will have to be cleared with the language school, and will also depend on me getting the job. They demanded a social security number which I don't have yet. Bah. And it would be 35 hrs a week, which on top of teaching and planning may send me mad. And would definitely kibosh the Oxford teaching job, which I was perfectly qualified for. Buses. Wendy Cope. Buses.

So, I came home happy but rather confused (as befits someone trying to board three buses at once) and made a wonderfully studenty meal, of pasta and things in tins and jars, and then retreated to a 24-fest, as my housemates had gone out for dinner. Except it wasn't much of a fest. I think I'm getting old. I once watched about 18 episodes of 24 in one go (with brief toilet and food breaks, unlike the hapless characters) but now my nerves can't take it, and I have to limit myself to 2. That, or in my wisdom I have developed a sense of restraint and self-discipline and can wait a decent amount of time for the next episode. (I don't even fast forward the 'Previously on 24' bits any more!)

But this is unlikely, when you consider that I eat Nutella from the jar.