Productive days off really are the best.
Since my body clock now seemingly can’t bear to let me have an actual lie in (my eyes flew open a whole hour and twenty five minutes before my eight thirty alarm this morning), I may as well get some shit done.
I went and got a much needed haircut on what turned out to be the most wet and windy day in recent weeks, rendering my use of an umbrella completely pointless, as it just kept turning inside out as I swore at, and pleaded with, it to just do its sodding job. Eventually I had to resign myself to the fact that I was just going to need to put my hat back on and steel my reserve against the weather. Up until that point, my hair actually looked quite nice.
Once I’d sorted my mop out, it was into work (that’s right, eagle eyed life followers – both my “days off” this week have involved going into work) to do the test that went so horribly wrong yesterday. This time round? It all went without a hitch. I got 85%, passed with some colours (I only class them as flying if I get full marks), and realised that I was honestly worrying for nothing. Now it’s onto Module 2, which is much more tricky and needs to be finished and the exam passed in three weeks time. So no pressure there then.
In order to celebrate passing my exam, I went out for lunch and had a very lovely, but slightly surprising conversation with the girl who took my order.
Her: Did you go to Plymouth High?
Me: Er, yes. Yes I did.
Her: I thought so! I thought I recognised you. I mean, you look great. Not that you didn’t before! But there’s been obvious shedding and you look fantastic now.
Me: Oh. *blushes profusely* Well thank you very much, that’s very kind of you to say so.
It’s good to know that my face has clearly not changed in at least 8 years, whilst my weight has.