There's only word for it - gutted. Miss T has decided that our friendly department store isn't for her and she's arranged to get work experience at another one. So it looks like I won't be flirted with for the time being. Funny how you only miss these little interactions when they vanish. Never mind. I'm sure she'll make up for lost time at our next session together.

You see, that's how to survive the dreary tedium of joblessness.... Get a blonde to flirt with you. Works for me.

Ousted

Mister G was a guy at our work experience session. He's a distinctive chap, a tall afro-carribean guy who looks like an aboriginee in a down-and-out coat. Apparently his work experience placement weren't too impressed with his appearance and told him he wasn't supposed to be there, so he simply took everyone else with him back to his place to smoke a spliff. Class. Sheer class.

It's apparent that he feels a need to be high all the time. When he isn't smoking suspicious substances he's taking swigs from a subtlely concealed bottle. When he isn't doing either he's asleep, dozing away despite the best efforts of our advisor to keep him interested in word games to further his education.

In a sense it's sad, but he's been ousted, dropped from the course, possibly facing a loss of benefits. A part of me suspects it won't hurt him financially too much. It certainly won't make any difference to the cannabis cloud hanging over east Swindon. KS tells me he once got a placement at the same place and stayed there for ten weeks without getting mugged. An achievement he reckons. I believe him.

Demolition At Last?

People have been busy at the Old College site just across the yard from where I live. Cars coming and going from the back entrance, Men In Suits wandering around taking photographs (and admiring my much maligned car too. Four thousand quid and it's yours, mate... Oh suit yourself...). You have to laugh. Are they seriously going to build a new shopping centre with our old ones 20% empty?