Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings.

Why is it that when one part of your life seems just about to be right, the rest falls to pieces? I have been moaning for some time that "nothing ever goes right for me". I know I'm not the only person to have made this dramatic statement, but I genuinely think that.

Ever since finishing uni, I have been stuck living with my parents in a village in the middle of nowhere with a serious lack of public transport and due to my inability to pass a driving test, I've been immobile.

My love life - well, you all know how shambolic that is - has been non-existent for some time now, despite a brief flirtation that went absolutely nowhere. Jane Austen has ruined me for all mankind and I refuse to settle for someone I don't find attractive (which apparently makes me picky - I disagree!).

All of my friends are happily settled and seem to be more like early forties than early twenties. The weekend comes and I'm up for going out but no one else ever is... which leads to me being very lonely and bored and means another night in watching Bridget Jones with Ben & Jerry, the only men who are truly there for me.


After university I was unemployed for 4 months before finding a crappy job - but I was glad of the money and I loved the people I worked with, so not so bad. Plus, I have the lovely Cellardoor to keep my creativity alive. So this section of my life has been keeping me going. Working has meant I can buy stuff to make me happy and visit my non-boring friends.

So imagine how I felt last month when I got made redundant. Gutted. But I managed to put a positive spin on it. "Great," I thought. "Now I can finally move to London, I have nothing holding me back and I'll find another job in no time!" And that's exactly what I'm doing, I've managed to find myself a poky little room where the rent is pretty cheap and I'm so excited.

But almost a month after losing my job, I'm still jobless and with no sign of a job heading my way. I have enough money for one month's rent, but after that I'm screwed. I sit at home refreshing job sites over and over, hoping that the perfect job will crop up. I've applied for almost everything, and considering I now have a year's worth of experience at work, you'd think I'd be able to get another job doing exactly the same thing - but no. It's a low point when you find yourself applying to work in Santa's Grotto at Harrods.


But onwards and upwards I say. Despite being pretty low now, my life will be different as soon as I move away. I have some great friends in London who do actually venture outside, I'll be in the middle of everything so looking for jobs should be so much easier or someone even might spot my amazing writing abilities and offer me a great job and most of all, I'll finally not be living with my parents! What more could a girl want?