The 7th of JW is done. It was done after 6:50am actually.
During the night, I had all those weird dreams before an interview. The ones where you wake up after the interview. Oops. Missed it. When I did wake up, it was four hours away. Three hours. Two hours. Finally half-an-hour before my alarm was set to go off.
Great, I thought. At least it wasn’t raining. We can have the interview outside – out of the way of the Ormerods waking up for school. Just then it started to pour. So much rain and wind indeed that I had to go outside and close the transom gates – so we didn’t lose anything in a big gust. When I was out there, a huge stream of lightening flew across the sky. Ok. Don’t think we’ll do the interview outside.
I’ll start preparing downstairs, I thought. Found headphones, organised the light in the saloon so I didn’t dazzle the interviewer with an interrogation-type lamp. The tables would be turned in this case. I washed the crust out of my eyes. Definitely made me look younger.
Dressed up then- well the top half of my body. This is the age of Zoom after all. I arranged my phone on the saloon table on Delph’s mobile phone stand. It’s a soft husky dog her best friend Aaliyah bought her. Turned out to be super handy. Much better than holding the phone and pointing it up into my nose.
How much time left? There was thirty minutes to the interview. Enough time to quickly write to my mum, who went straight into the news. Slightly dramatic the last twenty-four hours. Again. My mum likened Trump’s violent inticement of rioters storming the Capitol in Washington DC to Belarus’ Lukashenko. I agreed like I knew what she was talking about. Can you imagine when we’re back to just analysing Brexit, and thinking about the Royals. Bit of global warming. Aww.
Ten minutes left. Time to send blog. Stare at loose piece of paper. Re-read key words. Listen to Lu’s alarm go off for a few minute before I call out, ‘Lu!’ about five times.
I hear a grumble and a rustle. Her alarm goes quiet. Two minutes to go. Suddenly I really need the bathroom. Oops. Quickly! Back in time to pop headphones on and hear the Skype video call ringing.
‘Hello, is this Hannah?’
A relaxed-looking older man looks at me. Tells me his very Welsh name.
I smile. This is so refreshingly familiar. The amount of Welsh names I have had to learn to say. I say, ‘Let me just make sure I can say your name properly. I like to make sure I get it right.’
His turn to smile – and I catch myself on it. I sound like a teacher? Already?