Monday, 20 November:

Bloody awful day today. As if splitting up with Tim after nearly three years together and, as a result, having to move back in with Mum and Dad wasn't enough my first day at Number Ten Downing Street could not have gone worse if I'd tried.

I was rather excited about starting new job It was one of the few things I still had look forward to since had just been chucked, ad was marvelous opportunity as would actually be working with the Prime Minister and important government people. Although, was also very nervous. Made a point of choosing perfect outfit last night, which I laid out neatly on a chair. Even went to bed early so as to be well rested for first day.

Discovered, however, that plan failed when woke up this morning by niece jumping on my bed screaming, "Nattie, Nattie wake up!"

Was so started that, before realizing it, I reached out and smacked her off the end. She fell to the floor and started crying. I tried to comfort her but she ran out of the room screaming "Mummy!" at the top of her lungs before I could reach her.

I flopped back down muttering about brilliance of starting day off by giving seven year old child concussion when happened to notice that bedside clock read 8:30. Must have set the fucking alarm wrong!

Was so late that had to skip shower, and instead hopped around in front of sink while trying to brush teeth, apply make up, and squeeze into stockings all that the same time. It didn't help that Tracy came upstairs half-way through to yell at me for injuring her child, and continued to follow me around complaining as I rushed around my room in a mad frenzy to finish dressing and gather up everything needed for workday.

She even followed me down to the kitchen where I went to grab muffin and cup of coffee. Mum and Dad, of course, felt the need to get involved by then too, so by the time had heard lectures about childcare from everyone in the house, given numerous apologies, and actually managed to fight my way out the front door had missed the 9:15 train. Bugger!

Raced down to the metro station and waited on platform checking watch every five seconds to see how much more late would be by the time train arrived, and staring intently at the empty tunnel willing the train to hurry up and arrive sooner. Once it finally arrived it felt like the longest ride ever to my stop.

When finally arrived at Number Ten was out of breath from fighting through crowded metro station and running the rest of the way to the correct flat. Was greeted on arrival by severe looking woman with impeccable suit and short braids who eventually introduced herself as Anne.

"You're late," she said before I had a chance to catch my breath, and walked away before I could explain. It quickly became evident that she was in charge because she began handing out orders. Luckily for me Number Ten was almost as hectic this morning as my house had been, so managed to sneak away to one of the washrooms to freshen up hair and make up. Definitely necessary too as looked quite frazzled.

At 11:30 we were all called to assemble for the Prime Minister's arrival. Felt quite shaky while standing lined up with other household staff, and was trying not to think about the possibility that when he came in I might be sick on his, no doubt very expensive, shoes.

When he came in, however, the oddest thing happened. I completely forgot how nervous I'd felt two seconds earlier. As a matter of fact the only thought that entered my mind was that he looked completely different then he does on TV, but I couldn't name how. I didn't hear what he said to the others, but Anne introduced me last since I was at the end of the line. He acknowledged me with a polite hello.

"Hello, David," I responded. The nervousness rushed back at the surprised look in his eyes.

"I mean 'sir'" I quickly corrected myself, "Shit, I can't believe I've just said that."

AHHHH!

"Oh, and now I've just gone and said 'shit'-twice," I was just completely babbling by now, "I'm so sorry, sir."

Fortunately he didn't look angry, instead he looked like he was trying not to laugh….although I'm not sure if that's better or not.

"It's fine, it's fine," he smiled, "you could've said "fuck", and then we'd have been in real trouble."

I smiled back, "Thank you, sir. I did have an awful premonition that I was going to fuck up on the first day."

My hand flew to my mouth. Now I've just said 'fuck'!

"Oh, piss-it," I muttered.

Okay apparently I'm just a complete lunatic now!

At that point Anne pulled him away to the next room before I could say something else stupid.

"It's okay," the housekeeper said gently once they were gone.

"Did you see what I just did?" I asked in a whisper, to which she gave an unfortunate nod 'yes'.

That was definitely the worst first impression ever.

The rest of the day went alright. I didn't see David again – wow, just did it again. I don't know what the problem is. It just sort of slipped out. Feels odd somehow, now that we've actually met in person, to call him "sir" or "Prime Minister". Must be very careful about that from now on, though. Even though nothing major happened, there was a lot of discrete giggling whenever I left a room today.

Lovely, have managed to convince colleagues that, not only am disrespectful and unprofessional, but also have intelligence of dust rag. Oh well, must look on the bright side…..at least I only embarrassed myself and didn't vomit on new Prime Minister as well.