Weird dynamic in the fitting room next to mine this morning - a twenty-something daughter yelling, literally, at her fifty(?) something mother because daughter had gone up a size.

Daughter: Oh My God! I can't believe it! I can't fit into a 12! I never thought this would happen to me. Never. NEVER!
Mother: It's the cut, love. It's not you.
Daughter: Just look at me!
Mother:It's because they sit on your hips, not at your waist.
Daughter: Look at me! Look at this! God! They don't fit! THEY DON'T FIT! OH GOD! OH GOD! THEY DON'T FIT!
Mother: It's not you love, really, it's the cut ... Shall I get you a 14?
Daughter: NO!

The weird part was the way that the daughter seemed to be angry with the mother, rather than with herself or the unfairness of life or the clothing designer or (my target in similar moments) at the hideously truthful changing-room mirrors and ghastly lighting that shows every sag and bulge. You'd think that self-interest, if nothing else, would get the clothing stores to put flattering lighting in the fitting rooms. Must still be men in charge of that department.

Anyway. I now have some new work clothes, the shopping process was relatively quick and painless, and inexpensive too. So that was all good.

I also called the head-teacher at Sophie's school today to confirm the tentative arrangement I'd made at the end of last term. Sophie's school ends at 3.30 - the same time that I finish work. So there'll be a fifteen or twenty minute delay before I get to her. She couldn't wait alone on the playground for that time - it's completely empty by 3.40, and it's starting to get dark already, not to mention the fact that it is freezing cold - and, unlike Stephen and Emily, she is too young to walk home alone. But, the head-teacher was really sweet about it all, and has offered to let Sophs wait in the reception area till I get there. And Sophie is quite happy with this; says it'll be a nice time to read her book. And she and I should arrive home just as Stephen and Emily do, so our normal afternoon routine shouldn't be disrupted too much.

This whole job thing still seems so vague and unreal to me - I don't quite believe that I really am starting work in a couple of days. I think part of that stems from the fact that I don't have a clear enough idea of exactly what the job will involve, so I can't picture what I'll actually be doing. I can't help feeling that I'll pitch up there on Monday and find out that there's been some kind of ghastly misunderstanding and that there is no job...