I loved the week, everyone was very friendly. I learnt that if i want to be a journalist i need to swear and read more. And a work experience placement where you’ve actually experienced something regarding work is a rare thing to find. All too often it’s a case of fiddling your thumbs while willing someone to email you, even if it’s telling the whole office that a cufflink was found in the mens toilets.

It’s a sad thing to know but it’s likely that my journalistic career has peaked here. It’s very unlikely i’ll ever again be able to utter “My names Liz, i’m calling from The Times” but some people have never said that so i can’t be moaning now.

Who knows, in 10 years time when i’m sat behind murdochs desk on top of Olympus with the gods, i’ll laugh, i’ll be able to call lowly work experiencers and order extensive research to be done on a person with an incredibly difficult name to remember and ask for an emailed copy of the research to be sent to me in my office  in five.

All in the name of a good C.V.

I’m the typical disillusioned 16-24 year old: I’m in thousands of pounds of debt, I will hopefully get a decent degree but nothing inspiring and I don’t know what will happen when i fall off the university monopoly board……It feels like next year, post graduation i’ll have passed “Go” without collecting my £200 pounds and heaing straight to the proverbial jail.

Not to sound unecessarily negative but that’s what graduation feels like when you don’t know what to do when you grow up. I look around me and I have great role models…mums and dads, friends, family bu which way to turn. Do I become a hero and join the army, the first honest journalist and be the broke creative one, or do i join my dads law firm and sell out.

It’s a tough choice, I think i’ll make my decision after another disc of SATC.

The metro is turning into a seething mass of bodies like a piece of modern art in the pushkin institute. The furs are mixing with the drunks and the drunks are mixing with the police.

My diet consists of a variety of macdonalds, smiley face toast and red october chocolate. Sometimes you just have to put yourself first.

Here are a few thoughts from my first day in Moscow: it is very big, loud and dirty, Mullets are very popular particularly when accompanied by a tight white vest, its impossible to cross a road but the metro is very cheap.

I’m going to use this blog to write down my thoughts about the city and living in it as a skint student.

Thought one: Visas

Now I knew it was going to be a hassle to get registered but three hours down the line and several blisters later i seriously considered becoming an illegal immigrant. so I got on the metro to the nearest stop to the office  which was university  about 40 minutes from the center….then I was going to get a taxi to the office but couldn’t find any so I got hassled in to what can only be described as a van that drops you off centrally …any way it was carnage. I got dropped off in the middle of nowhere with this granny who was going to show me the way but then realised she had no idea so she pootled off. I figured I would be fine as I was on the right street but it turns out that all of the side streets were also called the same thing and the main road must have been 2 miles long. I eventually found the place after several people gave me conflicting instructions and it was so strange,  the “office” was a desk in a secondary school next to the reception. Then of course I made my way back in another mini bus (gotta love em!)  and have finally come back to the flat to recount my tale.

 Blog Done.