Disclaimer: I do not own Jane Eyre, although I suspect the copywrite on it has already expired....but tradition is tradition.

Chapter 1

New Years Day, January

Last night I went to my first party-party. Aren't you proud?

Beth dragged me along. She told me if she was going to pretend to be party material she needed someone even more obviously less so (I know, it's a confusing sentence) to take along with her.

It was kind of fun. I'm lying to an exercise book. It was awful. I'm not sure if I was hoping to be asked to dance or not, although I'm leaning toward 'not'. A guy did come up and start talking to me, but when he asked me my name, and I replied "Jamie" he looked rather confused and stated that I am, and I quote, "like, not a guy". A real Einstein. A physiologist, or possibly an anthropologist, would probably be more pertinent than a physicist, but saying "A real Margaret Mead" loses something in translation. I think it's scorn.

Beth and I are sharing rent again this year, which means I need to start looking around for another job. I wasn't sacked, per se. Work just appears to have stopped putting me on the roster. Such is life, ey?

Thursday, late January

Well, I have a job: babysitting an eight year old girl on weekday afternoons and evenings. I have to pick her up from school, accompany her to various after school activities, ensure homework and piano practice are completed, make dinner, put her to bed, and make sure she isn't axe murdered between 7:30 when she goes to bed, and 9pm when one of her parents gets home.

It sounds doable.

Monday, early February

Babysitting. What can I say about it?

Don't do it.

How can an eight year old have so much energy? Her name is Anna, and she has the healthiest pair of lungs I've ever come across. Her parents appear to be lovingly forbearing, knowing her faults, but put on a brave face in spite of them. And worst of all, she does not sleep. Every evening I spend at least half an hour trying to get her to settle down. Sometimes I sing, sometimes I recite poetry. She quite likes it when I recite French poetry for her, but my repertoire on that frofnt is rather limited, so...hang on

Saturday, early February

So I tend to stick to English. Apologies for that, she wanted something to drink.

It's rather draining spending 30hours a week looking after her, although I'm only expected to be actively looking after her for half that time. But apparently it's not going to last that long. She has an older brother who usually takes care of the "evening shift", but he's overseas at the moment and isn't expected back until around May. When he gets back home I'll only have to watch her until 6. That should make life easier, although it means I'll be earning less...

Sunday, early March

Uni begins again *dum dum DUM* tomorrow. At the moment I'm fairly indifferent. I recall being so eager last year, and look what happened. I expected a smorgasbord of intellectual stimulation. Instead I got a re-run of my final year of school, minus the friends and teachers who actually knew my name, and with the added fun of a part time job. Woot.

Friday, mid March

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Nothing is happening. Get up, go to uni, collect Anna, SURVIVE, go home, study, go to sleep, repeat. I guess that's technically something. I heard once that it's physically impossible for nothing to happen, and that if nothing ever did happen it would be a huge deal in the scientific world.

If there's money to be made out of studying nothing, perhaps I should apply for a physics research grant.

Saturday, mid April

At last! I have an anecdote!

I was walking briskly (I do not "power walk") up the hill from the bus stop in an effort to get home and out of the rain. Usually I quite like the rain, we get little enough of it. My only problem with rain is that because it comes around so rarely it's economically inefficient to buy water proof shoes. Anyway, as I was briskly walking this guy who was cycling obviously didn't see me until too late, swerved to miss me, and managed to ram a pole instead. One thing I'll say for him – fluent curser. He got off his what-once-was-a-bike and came over to me, looking rather threatening. I calmly observed that in this weather cycling may not be the optimal form of transport, and I'm sure the environment would forgive him for using a fossil fuel-powered machine just this once, such as a bus, or possibly even a car... whilst saying all this I was beginning to wish I had a bus or a car at my disposal. I was quite scared. Anyway, if he was considering doing something violent he appeared to change his mind, instead remarking that if I was going to walk in the rain in the dark and not want people to crash into me it might help if I wore brighter clothing. For example: a fluorescent vest, or a helmet with headlights. I then replied if he was going to tell pedestrians they should wear headlights, he himself might consider having them fitted, considering that as a cyclist it is illegal for him to cycle in the dark without them. Then a bus which he could catch turned up, he hauled the wreckage onto it and yelled over his shoulder if he ever just managed to just avoid cycling into me again he'd charge me half the damages.

It was a very 'if'fy business.