Butterfly Jones Inc.

The pagan festival is coming and the goose is looking anorexic. Although, I'm not big on Xmas, I have a kid who may be expecting a lil' sumptin' sumptin'. She doesn't go over the top though, as she knows I ain't keen on materialistic celebrations of the birth of Jesus. If it was indeed even at this time. But she's already compiling a mental (occasionally verbal) list of must-haves. Last year I got away with buying just two computer games. This year, black and white Converse have been mentioned, and new Vans trainers. Xmas is also big time for parties and raving, and I'd like at least four new frocks. But if I have to do without, I'll still 'drop it like it's hot'.

Half-term is over and Clarke is back at school tomorrow. Thank the Lord. All her feet-dragging when I wanted to go out was clean getting on my nerves. I haven't seen her since Thursday evening though, and am missing her terribly. Especially when I need something I left upstairs. It's a feeling akin to splitting up with your man, and come the weekend you're not quite sure what to do with yourself. Children give a structure and a routine to your life, that sometimes you resent, but for the most part you welcome.

After a busy week of visiting folk, entertaining Clarkie, and socialising, the theme for the coming week is application. Application to finding paid work. Application to finding jobs. Application to hitting up contacts that can link me to jobs. It's tough, but I'm the only one that can do it. I'm done with working for free, it's time to work for me.