The Search is On

Now, Vera, before you read this and start tutting at me I want you to remember the long chat we had yesterday and bear in mind that I did listen to your advice and I shall act on your advice, but at the moment I am facing inner turmoil and need to get it out of my system as I am sure you understand, as you are a best bud 'n' pal and have faced numerous inner turmoilium yourself.

And before anyone else reads this i.e Heather, Chris or Leane and you start thinking you have in some way contributed to my current inner turmoil, then think again girls and boys. I am MORE than capable of creating my own inner turmoil without any external influences chipping in, thank you very much and I am happy about the granny thing and the coming home after uni thing (provided you don't take up permanent residence at my end of the sofa or start stock-piling shoes at the bottom of the stairs. NB -I didn't mention toilet rolls!)

No, it's more to do with the age old torment of not feeling worthy unless I am earning some money. My writing year is almost up, and it has been a very, very good year. My writing has improved and so has the allotment although these two things are totally unrelated. And of course I shall carry on writing, because it is my favourite thing, but I think now is the time I need to start hunting for some kind of part-time paid employment (in the middle of a recession, when the economic climate is grim and hundreds of thousands of school leavers and graduates are chasing jobs too - great timing, Denise!) With no income imminent from my writing, I need (as they say in America) to GET REAL.

There is the massage therapy thing, the making cakes thing and I've also sent my details to Kent Education Authority who are setting up a central register for schools to access when they want a one-to-one tutor to come into school and work with pupils who are falling behind with English and/or Maths. And then I was reading the Daily Mail yesterday and there was an article for a most interesting job that is currently on offer in Dorset.

'I could do that,' I said to Andy.
'What?' he said.
'Be a witch!,' I said. 'Look, Wookey Hole want a witch - 'Must be able to cackle and not be allergic to cats.'

Andy looked at me over the top of the book he was reading. 'If you like,' he said, and I could tell by the tone of his voice and the arch of his eyebrow that he was either a) humouring me or b) a tiny bit scared that I might actually apply and relocate us to Dorset.

'And what does your wife do, Andy?' said the new neighours.
'Well, sometimes she's a writer, but mostly she's a witch,' said Andy.

Difficult one to explain, that one.

I practiced a bit of cackling.
'Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!'
'Sounds more like an evil despot than a witch,' said Andy.
'Ahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahha!!!!!'
'Better...bit more high-pitched, maybe...'
'Ahahhhahahahahahahahahahahhahahhaa......aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhahahahahahahahaha!!!!'

And then I coughed and had to stop as one should never try cackling when in the middle of toast and marmalade.

'And I've got three cats,' I said. 'Granted, Phoebe and Tybalt aren't totally black but it's nothing a spot of Grecian 2000 wouldn't put right. And I'd be in the caves with them. No-body would notice.'

'I wonder what happened to the previous witch,' said Andy.
'It says here that she has been moved to another part of the Wookey Hole Tourist Attraction,' I said. 'But it doesn't say why.'
'Perhaps she wasn't scary enough,' said Andy.
'Perhaps she was too scary,' I said.
'One has to strike the right balance of scariness when playing the role of a witch,' Andy agreed.
'Absolutely,' I agreed, and having been a drama teacher I feel I could strike that balance perfectly.

The only problem I could see was that the witch would be required to work at night sometimes. And although I know there is nothing there in the night-time that isn't there during the day (with the exception of bats, maybe. And burglars), I do get spooked in dark places, especially underground caves that are drippy and cold and full of dark ominous shadows and potential hobgoblins, werewolves, vampires and possibly the previous witch waiting to push her successor off a slippery rock in a fit of wild jealousy.

Still, it's a thought. A potential maybe.

I wonder how it would look on my CV?