Jobcentre leads me to Milk

what have you been doing to look for work Mr Monkey?
Water is no longer allowed

I was disconsolately meandering back from the Jobcentre Plus where I had discovered that I was not eligible for jobseeker’s allowance. Apparently I should never have gone there in the first place, but the consultant who set up the appointment on the phone didn’t ask me the right screening questions.

About to leave the Jobcentre, I was thirsty. I asked if I could get some water. The security guard told me the government cut the budget for the water-coolers and the plastic cups, so no I couldn’t. Is there no water piped into the building? Do the staff just not drink anything all day?

Regardless, the government still had budget for several security guards from G4S.

Milk Bottle
If the place looked like this, I would not have gone in

Still thirsty, I looked for a place to get something to drink. Milk is a drink, so an establishment with that name caught my eye. I didn’t actually order any milk to drink though.

It looked a bit of a hipster place, and the Milk website confirms my suspicions (look at all those retro film filters on the photographs). Who cares? The food was outstanding. I ordered the Cashew and Mango salad. It is not something I would have enjoyed as a child. The flavours were too nuanced and complex. In short, it kicked ass.

I also really enjoyed the mismatched antique cutlery that sits on the tables, and the old weathered wooden benches.

If you happen to be in Edinburgh (I hear there is a festival on the go there at the moment, so you just might be), you should absolutely go to this place.

I’m probably not enough of a hipster to hangout there too much, but damn the food was good. The coffee too.

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Everything is Going to Be Alright

On the way to the Edinburgh Modern Art Gallery today it occurred to me that I may have completely fucked up my life by coming to the UK. No job. No money. No nothing.

Angie and I argued. She went home in disgust at my negativity.

I trundled on towards the gallery with Jethro. I was filled with rage, but a determined sort of rage. A rage to take Jethro to the gallery, see the giant furniture, and have a nice time no-matter-what goddammit!

I rounded the corner and beheld the gallery façade…

 

Work No. 975: "Everything is going to be alright" Installation by Martin Creed

The neon lights knocked me forcefully. I fell to a bench, and my anger flushed out of me. It wet my gloves as it fled through my hands to the floor. Then it was gone—my red eyes and damp gloves the only evidence of it having ever existed.

When I stopped crying we went inside. . The giant furniture was amusing. The tourists were life-like. Edvard Munch’s lithographs were chilling.

Jethro and I had a wonderful time. I think I believe Martin Creed.