Two. Hours.
So today was probably not the best time to ask for some more money.
But I thought I'd grasp the nettle anyway.
After a long and rather rambling conversation with my boss - they're never straight forward, as he will ask for english help throughout, despite the fact his english is just fine. And I always say ridiculous things (this time I said 'I just wanted to see the field clearly'. What??) which I then have to point out aren't weird proverbs but my abysmal use of language - anyway, I didn't get any more money.
He understands if I want to look for another job, but made it clear he (and others) will cry if I leave. We talked a lot about London, as he thinks I should definitely try to move there (and that 'every young person should live in the big city') when I'm ready (financially, etc) We talked about dear old e_b, and as usual I tried to make it sound all very casual and in no way affecting any decisions I might make, but I think he saw through it.
The problem is I love my boss to bits. He is the sweetest big ol' gorilla of a guy. And when he looked at me with his big brown eyes and said 'please don't leave Emma, please...' I almost cried. I'm aware I sound pathetic. That I should have pushed them more, but he made it clear that there was no more money to be had, and the only answer was to look elsewhere. Which I don't 100% want to do.
Oh, nuts.
In other news: we met lovely lovely Queenie last night (hurrah! one more for my Bloggerdex!) and spent the evening talking and drinking and generally having a laugh. It was really nice. I do like meeting new people, it's always so exciting and interesting to see what they're really like. It was brill. And the plate was exchanged safely, much to everyone's delight. Unfortunately the spud had finally been chucked out a few weeks ago, tho I doubt it would have made such a good present by that point.
Then (when we really ought to have gone home) we paid a flying visit to Paul's leaving party. Which somehow or other relocated itself to a boardroom table. I never ever thought that at any point in my life I would be drinking free beer and eating a free Cornetto as I watched grown men dancing around on a table in a meeting room at Virgin HQ to the strains of The Bangles as people around me supped free champagne. It was like a dream. A crazy dream.
We tried to go on, but were flagging and skint, so passed up the club. When I said we couldn't afford it I should probably have added 'physically, mentally or spiritually'. But I didn't. Then I had a dirty macdonalds and we took a cab home.
Hm.
Maybe I do want to live in London after all.
