First temp job completed. Wasn't fired.
First UK bank account up and running. Card in mail.
Tesco's club card.
Boots club card.
National Insurance number.
First job interview in a building over looking Soho Square. London is beautiful, when you know where to look.
Feeling like a real British citizen.
With my first temp job over and completed, I was pretty excited for a sleep in, but I had an interview this morning that put that hope to bed (... yep, it's a day for Dad puns) for a large UK based group.
They had bowls of lollies and chocolate in their offices. I want that job. Shame I probably won't get it. Second interviews next week? Some people clearly need to stop applying for my jobs.
Regardless, I got biscuits.
Lovely Oprah lookalike at Lloyds bank set me up with a wonderful trio of bank accounts of which I failed to tell her, living in London, I will probably never fill. It was the easiest process and made all the rules and regulations of other banks coddleswallop! Proof of address? Nope. Your fault if you give me the wrong one and some random gets hold of your card and pin. Big girl now. I have documents and information packs for miles. If homeless people had foresight, they would sign up for bank accounts just before the start of brutal winter, lovely set of bedding in all that paper. If only homeless people had an address...
Had lunch at the mall to go over my bank documents and get all my tax and income forms scanned. Received a phone call that my temp job actually seemed to think I was pleasant enough to ask back. Have been asked back for more days! They thought they'd seen the end of me..
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