Not the new girl

Tuesday 18th: second day. 6am awake. Again. Oh well, looks like it’s going to be that way. I was much more confident. I drove the route with very little hesitation, remembering which lanes I needed to be in, feeling exasperated at the long traffic light changes like I’d been doing it for years. It’s strange how quickly I’d adapted and become the person who drives to work through the centre of Oxford. And arriving in the office was different, I knew people now to say ‘hello’ to them, and to ask if they’d had a good evening, I received the same also. I knew how to power up the Mac I’d been using, and I even had a little pile of work to start off with straight away.

The day went well. The day before, very kindly, I’d been treated to lunch, today I’d brought sandwiches, and sat with my new colleagues to eat them. I knew I was only there temporarily, but it felt comfortable and we got on well. Finding share interests in pets and sports, important things for getting to know people. I think I’m good at listening to people and that works well in a situation such as I was in.

My only struggle in the day was having to have lunch at a set time; I’ve got far too used to eating when I choose, so my stomach was literally growling. I drank gallons of water.
I tried out some more editing and proof-reading, and felt a great burden of responsibility in doing so: what I was checking would end up in an actual, printed book, and that kind of scared me. I had felt fairly confident at first, but then after finding mistakes on second and third readings through a proof I realised how painstaking it really is.

I got a chance to, briefly, to look through the archives, which was brilliant. So many different subjects. I love knowledge, and a shelf of books filled with intriguing information was hard to resist. I really would have been more than happy to have spent the whole two weeks reading the back catalogue. That was not to be though. I finished the day feeling I’d done a good day’s work and that was very satisfying.

Evening was exploring. Weather was cold, far colder than in Falmouth, and once again, I was laughably underdressed. No longer owning a coat, I only had a thin black cardigan over my dress, but set out anyway to find the parks. My direction triumphed, and I found the park at the back of Keble college. It was beautiful, full of flowers: daffodils; bluebells; snowdrops and a strange blood-red bush of flowers that I’ve never seen before. I walked on and enjoyed the peace.

There had been rain, a lot of rain the last week before I arrived and the evidence was in the drowned field by the river. There was something quite unsettling about it; trees surrounded by swirling water, rippling waves lapping at the grass. Something dream-like and unreal about it. I hung over a bridge for a while, mesmerised by the water. And then walked on again. Very cold, my fingers turned blue and white, and then gradually completely numb. Which was entirely my fault; I had brought gloves, but vanity overcame practicality - the colour of them didn’t match my dress. So I hurried back to the flat. Enchanted and frozen.