Hewwo, Work experience still is hell. Yesterday, I had to dust. Mean Agnes the Moke Who Wet Herself to Spite me has 5 chests of drawers, and millions of ornaments on top, And I can to take all the ornaments off one by one, and dust each chest. And she yelled and swore at me and said I was lazy and not doing it properly, and I had to do them again and again and again until she was grudgingly satisfied. Then I had to put all the ornaments back and she said that they'd better be in perfect order, or she'd wet herself again, but she would help me out and I had to keep on trying until I got it right. Then she threw her biscuit at me anyway. After I'd done all sorts of skivy work, I went into the lounge to wait on the ladies, and one of them asked my to come over and hold out my hand. Which I dutifully did. And she spat her teeth into it. And the palatte was all jam-packed with soggy chewed up digestive biscuit, which she demanded that I clean. So I took it to the bathroom, but I had nothing non-bleach to use, and I didn't want to kill anyone yet, so I had to use my fingers and it was yucky. And then this old lady in the other toilet started buzzing, and (since I'd been given a video on Caring for the Incontinent to watch), the nurse said I was to go and see what she wanted. And when I walked in there was this god-awful smell, and there was squits in the pan, and soiled loo roll on the floor, and she was standing there with her panties round her ankles, demanding help. And I had to help her pull her triple strength knickers up, and then pick up all the pooey tissue paper off the floor, and my god I don't think I'll ever forget the smell. Then I went back to the TV room, and started helping the ladies through to the dining room, but one of them had soiled herself in a really bad way, and it was all over the place, and she'd been sitting like that for hours, and I felt really bad because I hadn't noticed. But thankfully they didn't make me bath her, just empty the bins (which burst on me and got vomit on me), and hang out the laundry (giant sheets, which I got badly tangled up in, and fell over lots of times), and running errands. Oh, and I was officially demoted from "Jennifer", to "the girl", or, in more positive situations, "you", or "what's yer name again, hen?". Today I did the usual, and got the unenviable task of changing Agnes the Moke who Wet Herself To Spite Me's urine soaked sheets. And I ignored her when she swore at me, so her new favourite game became insulting my parentage. She also kept groping the nurse who was helping her, and cackling like a really evil cartoon witch. Um, also, I spent a while in a cold cellar place folding boxes. And I ran more errands, in the rain this time. Also, they placed Daniel O'Donnell in the smaller house, and I'm telling you, i really don't care how far it is to Tipperary, or what time of year it is in Ireland, or what flowers are blooming, sweetly or otherwise, and I'm not Irish, and I didn't want to come into your stupid parlour anyway. Sorry about that. And on the way home I had to walk for half an hour in the moke-ish rain, and all the cars kept whizzing by and soaking me, and I usually like the rain, but not today. Today, I don't like anything. I really hate the home, the poor women are forced to sit and watch daytime tv, and there are lots of lovely, accessible gardens, but i've never once seen them leave doors, even though yesterday and the day before it was nice weather. And the staff prepare food, after taking ladies to the loo, without washing their hands, and they're all really bitter, and jumpy, and they're not supposed to smoke indoors, but they do, while they're seeing to the ladies, and even in the kitchen. And they treat the ladies like they're three year olds, even though some of them are still lucid, just can't do things for themselves, and all the old ladies are really miserable, and they have nothing to do. God I hate it. Only two more days to go. And I'm in a rotten mood, and I've had hardly any sleep, and I've been doing so much stuff, and I HATE AGNES, and I HATE WORK EXPERIENCE, and I've got a really sore back from carrying stuff, and I've hardly eaten, because I don't want to get a filthy toilet nicotine disease from the food, and did I mention I HATE WORK EXPERIENCE, so I'm very sorry, and if you didn't like my post or the fact that it has no content again, you can feel free to e mail me with abuse, and i'll just add it to my giant pile of abuse I get at WORK EXPERIENCE WHICH I HATE and I'll maybe get round to being depressed about it when I'm 50, which is how long it'll take me to get through all the other big fat juicy abuses. Sorry. Lack of hugs, Jen Ps. 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