Tough luck love.

So the HannARGH news in simple sound-munchable chunks.

I graduated- HURRAY

I am jobless. Oh- tough luck love.

I broke up with my boyfriend and

My granddad died.

Where to start?

So now it is back to basics. I’ve been stripped of things to do, places to lug tripods to and people to beg interviews off. I’ve sailed back from Leeds wielding a certificate with BA Hons 2.1- (bloody well done old fruit) stamped on it, and as yet I have nothing to do with the darned thing.

I’ve started the jobseeking sign-on “fill in a form” marlarky and am STILL waiting on a phone call from the job centre gurus. This phone call is TWO DAYS LATE! You’re meant to invite me to a interview say…oh….YESTERDAY.

Look here Mr and Mrs Jobcentreplus- I’m really not very impressed that you haven’t got back to me. I have a right mind to hire myself as your PA….. Perhaps not.

I’m going to start printing off job rejections. I think I’ll have a fair few by now. Say 20? The only problem is the printer is connected to the computer that’s barely coughing and wheezing into this side of the millennium. Will have a stab at printing. Or maybe just a stab at the printer. The later is more likely.

OHHH and of course, I was going to write about being at the BBC and swanning around one of their newsrooms pretending that they employed me. Will do that in a bit. :O! I have pictures to go with it. Safe to say, it was AMAZING!

So the boyfriend thing? I’m not going to write about it- not because I’m bitter or anything but because he published enough about it on the internet for the both of us. So if you’re smart and nosey you’ll be able to figure out who is and where to scroll through a bit of my failing love life.


Oh Grandad. My dear, sweet, fit-as-a-fiddle Grandad lost his fight with cancer two days ago. So most things HannARGH are on hold. But I’m finding I still have a surprising amount of free time; too much thinking time. The gaping clawing cavity that is grief I expect any second now .

All I can say about “Good Old George” is borrowed from Mr. F. Turner.

“We live to dance another day, it’s just now we have to dance for one more of us.”



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