Little objects of desire: Electric Blanket

Today's trip to London for the Recruitment/Training Day began early - I was up at 6.30 am and enjoyed my 'Quiet Time' bible study before breakfasting on home-made yoghurt, fresh blueberries, nuts and seeds. Left home prompt at 8 am with my friend, arriving at the venue 10.10 am - time to use the loo before signing-in. It was an old building with some maintenance issues. The carpet was wet in a corner of the classroom with signs of water leaks on the ceiling panels around the pipes, and the plumbing was loud every time someone flushed the toilets next door. I took a glance at the information pack I'd been handed and at first decided to sit near the window to help with reading the tiny print. Not so many years ago (2000), I had 20/20 vision but now rapid deterioration has led to the need to wear glasses to read the newspaper or regular print even in good light. I was wearing a cashmere pullover, normally warm enough to keep me cosy, but the windows were ill-fitting metal-framed single-glazed and the draughts made me shiver. I moved away from the light, but even in the centre of the room it was cold and draughty. I put my scarf back on and kept it on for the rest of the day.

I've had some training and experience in the past in conducting telephone interviews and had anticipated that the work - telephone interviews with mental health service users to measure the degree to which they have experienced stigma or discrimination as a result of a diagnosis of mental illness - would be easy, but was surprised to find the role-playing exercise much more difficult than I had anticipated. The script was awkwardly phrased, yet interviewers would be required to keep to the script in order to ensure consistency so that the results would be meaningful. I found myself wondering whether I really wanted the job. It began to look like a recipe for frustration, more so since I would be working from home and my internet connection has been patchy and unreliable the past few months.

At the end of the day I met up with my friend again and we went to the cut-price ticket booths in Leicester Square. At the first booth we asked about tickets for the musical, "We will rock you". Outside these tickets were advertised at £31, but the very attractive salesgirl said apologetically she only had full-price (£55) tickets available. Curiously I asked if she had tickets for another show, "Stomp!". Oh yes, she could offer cheap seats for that show but she should warn us that they had a very limited view. We came away to discuss it, and I suggested we try a different ticket booth. I had assumed that all the booths would have access to the same tickets as they are all computerised these days, but this second booth WAS able to offer the "We will rock you" tickets at the reduced price, leaving me to speculate that perhaps the very attractive salesgirl in the first booth was capitalising on her assets and trying to earn herself extra commission by achieving full-price sales.

The show began with very low frequency loud noise, something like an aircraft engine, on the edge of painful. The show was enjoyable apart from being unnecessarily loud, which robbed it of some of the melody.

It was great that the rain held off almost until we were in the car on the way home again, and even better that Vic had switched on the electric blanket for me! It was lovely getting into that warm, cosy bed and reflecting back on an interesting day.