How to describe myself?  Well, I'm a "thirty-something", working in the media!  I think that just about sums it up. I'm not entirely sure what my job is exactly but I consider myself a necessary and worthwhile contribution to the National workforce, whatever it is I actually do, and not even slightly a waste of space.

As you can probably tell I have a bit of a wacky sense of humour, unlike a lot of women my age - which I'll keep to myself. thank you VERY much!!!!  Put it this way - I'm not as old as I look.  Not that I look old or anything.  Oh heavens, what is age anyway?

I have several hobbies.  My favourite is to hover oppresively around people at work, hoping they'll make some sort of mistake or error - that way I can point out the error and perhaps assist in some way.  Having built up something of a reputation for this sort of behaviour, most people I know become slightly on edge whenever I'm around and are therefore far more likely to make such mistakes - which is the beauty of the whole excercise.  It keeps me busy, it keeps me young (not that I'm particularly old) and it makes me look efficient - which is a boon in my line of work.  Whatever it is.

I cannot afford to make mistakes.  My psyche doesn't have the sort of basic rescue package needed to differentiate between constructive criticism and a sweeping condemnation of every social, emotional and vocational decision I've ever made.  As a result I invariably panic and either say something extremely horrible and spiteful as a defense mechanism, or (a much better option) I turn tail and run to the toilet, crying into my clipboard.  Luckily, being a woman (and a feminist), I can blame the latter on menstruation and avoid being seen as weak-minded.

I have a son. He's 17 now.  It was a young pregnancy. I've always prided myself that I'm not just a mother but also a good friend, sharing his music tastes and friends.  During his teenaged years it was slightly awkward for both of us but luckily I manage to curb my own feelings of embarrassment and inadequacy by bringing up the subject of puberty at every given opportunity or entering his room without knocking.  As a result he's wracked with nervous guilt so I still have some degree of control over him.  Not bad going for a spring chicken of my age which isn't particularly old.  Neither am I a chicken!  Cluck cluck!  Ha ha - told you I was a bit mad.  Where are my paperclips?

So, in short, I would describe myself as happy, contented, a bit silly (but sensible enough to hold down a job), young at heart and body and mind.  And whooo, looking forward to whatever life can throw at me, basically!!

I would like to see a clamping down on these immigrants though.