I guess I had better introduce myself. My name is Orelia Kirby and I live in Brighton, England. I’m eighteen and I’ve just left school this year. I was clever at school and left with six A Levels and acceptance at Uni in Brighton. Dad wants me to do a Marketing degree, but I want to do fine art so we have agreed I should take a gap year and “Work that silly art stuff out of your system.” That was my dad talking of course. I’m five foot five with very long, straight brown hair, although I might cut it this year. I was athletic at school being on the basketball team and swimming. I have the legs for it, I’m told.
So that’s me, but this story is all about babysitting, or rather the life lessons I’ve learned while I’m babysitting. I love it and the money is good. I charge eight pounds an hour for my time, and while that’s usually just three or four hours in the evenings sometimes it’s for a weekend and then the money really mounts up. I’ve one family that I do a lot of babysitting for and they give me a tip of two pounds an hour on top of the eight. Mrs Davidson says it’s because I do a good job, but I know better, I’ll tell you about that later. In any event, as long as they pay me at that rate they will get the first refusal any day. Friday is the most popular day of the week, and I have a permanent booking on Friday for the Davidsons. Even if they don’t go out, I’ll be there anyway and I’ll get paid.
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