So after a couple of days hanging around the Oxfamites I hinted that I had a diplocert in Media Studies and worked in Advertising, Marketing and PR. Basil thought that was pretty cool. Mapi just snorted but I could tell she was jealous. She did European Studies or something. Boooring. So I said that my dad was interested in maybe letting me out to some other companies to gain experience. This was met with a blank look from both so I added "And of course give you the benefit of my considerable knowledge for free". Basil's like "Do you want to become a volunteer, Aoiphe?". I'm like, yes, totally. I want to see more of you, you gorgeous hunk and be the first in line for the designer gear landing into to shop. And working for charity gives me a warm feeling in my heart. Not to go all mushy here, but it's good to give back to society. And I can get all my friends to bring their old stuff, get new stuff and impress Basil. Everyone's a winner.

I told Dad over dinner. I thought he'd freak the beak but he seemed surprised. I thought Martina was going to cry. "Relax Mars," I said, "I'm just doing some voluntary work, not getting married!" Although that is defo on the cards if my plan comes together. So Dad has agreed to let me go as long as I do my work for him. I could actually do that in 5 minutes but I'm not telling him that as he'll give me some dreadful spreadsheet thing to do as his secretary Roisin is always complaining. It's not my fault she has a bad back. Pulling her chair away before she sat down was just a joke. And a classic at that.

Anyhoo, I showed up for my first day last Monday. Basil said I'd be in Oxfam Occasions in the Georges St shop - which is where they sell the classy stuff for debs, weddings, etc. He can tell I have class.

So I was just settling in to folding jumpers (I did a week in Benetton when I was 17) when he called me over to where he was standing. I'm like "Deadly, five minutes on the job and he's calling me over to doss". He points down and says "Ever handled one of these?"

Seriously, I'm lost for words as I look down at his jeans. Then I turn puce as I realise he means the till. Then I look at my new gel-filled silicone double- French manicured nails and panic. They'll be totally ruined if I start bashing around on some cash register.

"Em, I'm allergic to metal" I tell him.

"It's cool, the buttons are just plastic" he says.

And so the training on the till commences. I have to pretend to be interested as he's pretty enthusiastic. I'll figure out a way to use this thing without damaging my babies. After all, I did manage to come away unscathed after peeling the label off my new Paolo Nuttini album over the weekend. And you see people on Burger King tills with like, pierced, diamonte studded talons. I asked him if there was a particular angle to hit the buttons at and he said I could just do it at my own pace. So I kept practising until he said I was a natural and could stop.

Mapi rang to say she had the flu and wouldn't be in and there were a few bags that needed sorting. She's a bag that needs sorting if you ask me. Anyway, Basil pulled all the stuff out and showed me how to go through it and make sure it was clean. There was a particularly marshmallowy debs dress but made from gorge material. I must do a dressmaking course so I can make fabulous creations out of stuff like that. There were also loads of weird Eastern European labels like Primark and Guineys. Basil was like "Don't put the cheaper stuff on the floor, Aoiphe" and I'm confused now because I'm not dropping anything onto the floor. As I struggle to lift everything in one go he clarifies it's the shop floor. Em, hello? Of course it's the shop floor. Is he on drugs? "Aoiphe, I mean out to sell. You know, the floor? It's just lingo." Like I said, I only worked in Benetton for a week and there wasn't much lingo in folding. So I put all the tatty stuff in for recycling. "Don't worry, Bas, I can spot quality merchandise a mile away" I say to him with a seductive wink. I still have to close both my eyes and open one to wink, however, so it wasn't that successful. Must practise seductive wink.

He explained how to price things- not so much that people wouldn't buy and not so little that we wouldn't make a profit. I did Bus Org in school though so I was down with that vibe.

Then, out of one bag came something that just beckoned to me. The most amazing Vera Wang wedding dress. It was so me. Basil was like "Wow- yeah, lovely" when I tried it on. I just wanted to see his face with me in it. Then I hear "Busy, are we?" and I turn around and Nools is there looking like a mentalist in all her woolly gear. I pulled her into the toilet and she was doubled over with laughter. "You're going to terrify him with that sort of behaviour, Aoiphe!" I reminded her that she was the one who brought her last prospective boyfriend to a folk mass and scared him off.

"That wasn't a folk mass, it was a Decembrists gig in St. Patrick's Cathedral, you idiot. And I didn't scare him off. He got a place on a course in New Zealand".

"Yeah...New Zealand...whatever..." was the best I could come up with.

So back in my civvies I brought her out and introduced her to Basil. In fairness I could see she pretended to be clueless as he told her about what Oxfam did and she did big up my enthusiasm and work ethic. Sometimes I need reminding of why she's my best friend.

I took an early lunch as I heard Paris Hilton was staying in the Conrad. Waited until three to see her but no show. I got a smoothie and trundled back. Basil seemed a bit cool towards me so I bought the Vera Wang dress. I called into the office on the way home to check my mail. There's still no sign of those tickets for the Six Nations match in Croke Park on Sunday. I can't believe I'm not going to be there. I mean, it's the first time they've let French people into Croker since The Famine or something. Dad said he'd give me a lift home but I'd have to take off the wedding dress as I wouldn't fit in his MG.

Whatever.

Mum asked me how I got on with my charity work. Honestly, she's so embarrassing. It makes me sound like a 1950's nun in Africa. And I don't think a nun would come home with a Vera Wang wedding dress and serious man prospects on her first day.