Mediocrity Really Does Breed Discontent !

It's been one of those hit and miss days, that good columnists can never quite bring themselves to write about. As an amateur hack (I only climb the dizzy heights of columnists' when in full ranty mode or recounting sizeable pieces of girlie gossip), I am happy to exploit this level mediocrity in the hope of making some sense of an otherwise crappy day !

Deciding to leave a job is a bit like a step-by-step rehab programme. You reach rock bottom. For me that means a bad day with HWMBO ! You acknowledge your problem (apart from Haribo Blue Starmix, an obsessional love of my hair extensions ( I haven't had a bad hair day since about 1998); my rock bottom is my appallingly crap taste in men and somehow finding myself lost in a spiral of unfufilling jobs, which I invest far too much time and energy in.

Next comes the detox or the realisation that you hate your job so much,that your only option is to leave it, fast. And so you enter the recovery zone. Re-doing your cv after securing the missing ingredient which you suspect has always kept your cv in the 'maybe' pile, is strangely satisfying.

However, the prospect that in less than two months, I will be ascending the stairs of a stage in an echo strewn hall, trying my best not to trip arse over tit in ridculously high heels to pick up my degree, is both exciting and terrifying. As any diva knows whenever she finds herself clad in an undesirable cloak of indeterminate fabric, the only way she can ensure she stands out from the crowd is to sport some totally fierce heels and a big smile!