It was about midnight and The Officer and I had dozed off on the sofa while watching a film. All the lights were turned off and I was drifting in and out of sleep when I opened my eyes for a moment and saw a man, dressed in black, standing at the end of the sofa. He swayed back and forth, grinned, and then slurred hello.

"Fuckin' hell!"

I quickly sat up and elbowed The Officer awake. My heart was pounding but my brain was foggy and slow-moving so it took a moment for me to recognise the man as one of The Officer's colleagues. They were friends and he occasionally spent the night at The Officer's house after being kicked out by his girlfriend for being drunk.

"I did knock," he said. "But no one answered."

He continued to stand there, grinning and swaying. I stared at The Officer who was looking a bit discombobulated. My eyes were hard, narrowed slits. Deal with this, they said. I got up and walked past his friend to go upstairs.

"How's work?" he asked.
"Fine," I said, leaving the room.

Funnily enough, I wasn't really in the mood for making work-related small talk.

I never thought I would say this: I wish I had to wear a uniform to work. I don't like working in an environment where nearly everyone else wears a uniform and where it appears there are no rules about what civilian staff can or cannot wear. It is entirely my own judgement as to what I consider appropriate to wear to a prison and that's all a bit too relaxed for my liking. I assume the following would be considered inappropriate:

• ball gown and tiara
• pyjamas/slippers
• orange jumpsuit
• convict cutie costume 

I have seen female civilian staff in short skirts, long stiletto-heeled boots, tight dresses and clacky-heels but I have never dressed like that for work and would never think of dressing like that to work in a prison. My 'uniform' is jeggings, a shirt and Dr Marten boots, trying to look as asexual as possible. But I'm a bit too curvy for that look and so wear a long cardigan over the top and hope no one notices my bum and boobage. Sometimes, I hunch my shoulders hoping it will make me look like I have no figure at all. When I recently went shopping for work clothes with a friend, she asked what I was looking for. "Deeply unflattering, baggy clothes that no one will notice," I replied. They were harder to find than you would think.

To some extent it is a losing battle: female staff in a prison will always be more noticeable. If you are young or attractive you will always get attention. I try to make a joke of it. When I walk through the wings with the library orderlies and someone wolf-whistles I always pretend they are whistling at the orderlies. "That must get embarrassing," I say to them, or "Wow! You're popular!" Then I wrap my trusty cardigan around myself and walk on, pretending it does not bother me.

I organised a "gay display" for LGBT History Month which I expect to be terribly unpopular. I tried to pick some great books by gay writers but worry that it now means 'The Talented Mr Ripley' will not be read because it will be associated with being gay. I've possibly created a gay ghetto in the library that no one will venture near.

Later, I discovered the orderlies had added their own selections to the display, including 'The Lord of the Rings', which I quickly removed.

I got the job. I was so thrilled that I spent the day grinning like a loon and went out in the evening and drank two whole pints of cider! The next day, John and I worked together and it was awkward. He gave me a congratulations card and then told me everything he would have done if he had got the job, in a way that made me think he expected me to do those things. When I tried to speak, he talked over me. An officer congratulated me on my new position while John was standing next to me and one of the library orderlies called me "boss" in front of him. I was feeling so embarrassed and unsure of how to act that I didn't give enough thought to how hard it was for John. This has effectively demoted him in the eyes of the people we work with: he has worked here longer and trained me when I started yet he was 'beaten' by a girl. The prison is such an odd masculine environment and ruled by a hierarchy. I need to support John more. He is a nice man and still my only colleague.

But I'm so excited about getting the job and realise now how disappointed I would have been not to get it. It means I can change all those things that annoy me about how the library is presently run. I've never had a job where I've been able to do that before. I've never had a job where I've wanted to stick around long enough to make changes.

There was a librarian here for many many years before I started and she obviously stamped her priorities and personality on the place. (I still don't understand her fascination with ferrets and why there are so many photos of them.) When she left, no one took over so everything ran the same - but in a random (ad hoc!) kind of way that didn't make a lot a lot of sense to me when I started, but I was still learning and working in a prison for the first time so there was a lot to take in and I didn't feel like I was in a position to make any significant changes. But now I do. I've grown in confidence and feel more comfortable with the prison environment: I'm used to being stared at. I'm used to unlocking and locking eleventy million doors everyday. Actually, I can now carry an index-card box, paperwork, a cup of tea and still unlock doors. But now I can focus on making the library better and create a proper learning environment. Also, I might get rid of those ferret photos.

If they were awarding the librarian position to the person who spoke the fastest during the interview then I would be feeling very confident right now. Also, if they gave special consideration to the use of the term "ad hoc" my confidence would be off the scale. (I said it twice in forty-five minutes when I don't think I've ever used it before in my life).  I cringed after the interview, thinking about the way I'd babbled on without really answering the questions properly. All the right information had been in my head from doing so much research but I could not translate that into an articulate reply.

It's now been five days since my interview and while that might not seem a particularly long time, it's been five days of mental torture as I replay the interview and my terrible presentation over and over in my head. I just want to know who got the job!

I graduated from university in 1997 and moved into a house with Welsh Boyfriend and my cat, Oscar. Welsh Boyfriend and Oscar never liked each other and after a couple of months WB suggested that we get another cat, perhaps a kitten who would like him and not give him evil looks like my older, more characterful cat. I agreed because I like cats and because I didn't think about the consequences of bringing another cat into a house where an older cat already lived. Enter Eric: a super cute flaxen coloured kitten that only the most stone-hearted, cat-hating of beings could dislike. Oscar was that being. He took one look at Eric and hissed, fur rising along his spine. Eric wiggled his bum and walked towards him; Oscar lashed out at him. This would be repeated many many times until Eric went and lived with my parents and became my mother's third child.

Over the years, Oscar and I visited or lived at home for various periods of time. He would immediately revert to bullying mode: hissing at Eric, lashing out, commandeering all food, staring at him with undisguised hatred and disgust, so much so that we had to watch them constantly when they were in the same room. Occasionally, Eric would retaliate but mostly he looked confused. Over the last few months, Eric became seriously ill and yesterday my mother took him to the vets for the last time. She came back heartbroken and we all cried for that sweet-natured cat who always smelt like popcorn. Wiping her eyes, she said the vet had offered a warning.

"He said that we should be aware that our other cat might become depressed from the loss of his companion."

We looked at Oscar as he slept on the window-sill, snoring noisily.

"I think he'll cope," I said.

I have an interview for the official librarian position at work. And so does my colleague, John. That's not weird, is it? Competing against your only colleague for a more senior position?

I'm sure it will be fine.

*buries head in sand*

Actually, I've been thinking it would be best all round if the other candidate, Mr Biggish, gets the job. I've never met him but he is more experienced than John or myself and I've heard that he's a nice guy to work with. The next best scenario is that John gets the job. It would mean spending more time at work with him (and he is not always the easiest of company) but he would make a very good librarian because he's smart and dedicated. He also has a habit of rubbing people up the wrong way which is mostly because he is a slightly camp Guardian reader and the prison is deeply distrustful of anyone different. I get on fine with him, although I wish he would not tell me about his marital problems.

The worst scenario is that I get the job. I will then have to run a library that the prison only half-heartedly supports because it has to. A library that my external colleagues have no knowledge or understanding about. And I will get to piss of my only colleague in the process. On the plus side, I would be able to put on events, develop and promote our services, try to increase support for the library within the prison, and be paid slightly more.

I still can't decide what I want.