Anyway, I told them I was forced to leave as the boss kept looking at me funny over the chilled counter and would lick his lips whilst holding up a packet of chicken drumsticks. I told the woman this and she sat up straight and said no woman should be forced to tolerate that sort of sexist behaviour and signed me on straight away. Whilst I was there I looked at some of the jobs that were available but there wasn't much that I fancied. Lots of care home jobs but there's no way I can stand working with old people. Just going to see my Nan is bad enough. She always stank of wee and fags though, even when she was much younger. We call her 'Pissy Pauline'. Lately she's hooked up with Mr Patel from down the road. His wife died last year and he's a bit lonely. I wasn't sure how he could stand to be near her but apparently he has sinus problems and likes playing blackjack.
Talking of stinking of wee, I'm going through febreze like there's no tomorrow since Kev pissed on my mattress. I might have to buy a new one soon which makes me think I'm going to have to get some sort of work to top up my dole. They really won't be giving me enough to live on. Shame I'm infertile, I could have had at least eight kids by now and wouldn't need to work again. Damn my broken ovarians! Still, at least I don't have to worry about getting a babysitter when I go out to bingo. Cousin Pam always takes hers with her and puts them under the table with a bottle of irn bru and a blanket for if they get tired. But then she is a devoted mother.
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