7 hours to go
I drag myself out of bed at 5am and start to get ready6 hours to go
I stand in front of the mirror and curse my low self esteem. I feel like a frumpy idiot who can not pull of smart to save her life. I see that there are five minutes to go before the taxi arrives, do I have time for one last change? I run upstairs tearing my clothes off and am in the middle of pulling on a completely different outfit when my mobile rings. Shit. I run downstairs, button up my trousers, jump in my shoes, grab my bag and run out the door through the gardens and up the alleyway to reach the street. I can see the taxi pulling away, why do they always turn up early and never wait?! Realising that any pride I may have has to go for the sake of getting to the station on time I run down the road waving my arms. Thankfully the driver sees me and stops. I thank him. We drive away. I then notice that in my haste I had left my shirt undone. This is not a good start to the day! I pretend that I didn't just run out waving my arms like a lunatic with my bra on show and we talk about his job interview with JCB on Friday. To his credit, he managed to keep a straight face until the train station car park where announced that he'd never had a women running towards him in her underwear before. There was silence. We both burst out laughing. He added that he wasn't driving off when I came out the house, just up the road a bit to park and wait. We laughed harder. He then reduced the fare saying that I'm the best passenger he's ever had (*mental note, must try the "flash-to-save-cash" technique more often*) and expressed a keen interest in meeting again.2 hours to go
I am sat in a Starbucks in Piccadilly Circus going through all my interview notes.1 hour to go
I make my way into the embassy. After checking in I'm left to watch Japanese music videos on the TV screen in reception while I wait.
Isn't the embassy pretty? :)30 mins to go
I take the grammar test and mess it up because I can't spell at the best of times let alone work out whether a, b, or c is the correct spelling of penicillin. I then talk to one of the JET Programme staff who is escorting me around the embassy. (For security reasons we can't be left alone, though I suspect they heard the taxi driver flasher was coming). We talk about his time as a teacher in Japan and I feel better as he got the job without knowing any Japanese or having any teaching qualifications.THE INTERVIEW!
Thankfully there are only two friendly people asking me questions rather than a panel of ten subjecting me to an interrogation. They start off with the obvious questions like "Why do you want to be on the JET Programme?" and whether my asthma prevents me from taking part in any sports. (No but my laziness does!) Some questions seemed to be a bit bizare...Japanese interviewer
: How will you cope if you are in spring in rural areas if you allergic to porn?Lizzie thoughts
: What? Good lord did he just ask about porn? How do I answer this? Time is ticking away...I should say something. Porn?! How can anyone be allergic to porn..? Am I in the right interview? Shit answer answer...porn... spring.. the 'l' sound...Lizzie
: Ohhh you mean pollen!
*Interviewers exchange puzzled looks. Lizzie tries to make a good recovery from her bad hearing.*
The interview didn't feel 20 minutes long at all. I felt like I'd only just got in when I was told that there would be no more questions. I was escorted out again, picked up my belongings and then siddled off up Piccadilly to find Oxford Street. I felt very relieved - it was over! I felt very worried - what if I don't get the job? I also felt very stupid - porn indeed. I think the adrenaline was getting to me as I couldn't stop laughing and giggling as I wondered slowly through the streets in a daze.
It's a shame that I have to wait until April to hear if I'm through, but on the whole I feel happy with my replies. I did the best I could and I can't ask more of myself than that. :)30 mins after
I'm in Waterstones pawing at travel books I can't afford.1 hour after
In the station I see front pages announcing Heath Ledger has died. I sit and wait for my train home.2 hours after
On the train home. Am comforted by the fact that if I don't get the job, the taxi driver from this morning could take me in and drive me around East Anglia in a digger. (Assuming he got the job with JCB.)10 hours after
I am sad that I spent a whole week looking forward to Torchwood only to find that it's the worst episode of the show I've ever seen (Sleeper). How does a show with so much potential fail to realise so much of it!? I hope next week's episode is better!