Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Better Offer

Up and, unwashed, drove to the Shell on Belair Road this morning to get a paper for the university offers.
There I am 'Myninjacockle 463912' (flick, flick, flick) - Business Studies...what? Oh, wrong number. Education Middle/Primary Graduate (I love that part) Entry. You little beauty.

I was content to bask in the reflected glory beaming from the small grey newsprint for a while, say the next two months, but ever practical Knickers had to go and ask some pretty fundamental questions:
  • How are you going to get to Mawson Lakes?
  • Will you be able to keep up your hours at work?
  • If not, how are we going to pay the mortgage?
So now I'm experiencing a mild panic attack. I have to admit to myself that my familiar 'she'll be right' approach has let me down in the past. Usually when the approach wasn't backed up with any sort of plan but hey, best laid plans, silver lining, Monty you terrible...

I don't know what a teacher does. What if you need to go to the toilet and lunch is an hour away? I'm so confused.



At April 13, 2008 at 6:20 PM , Blogger franzy said...

Are you my future?

After reading through your blog, I have the very strong opinion that my future self is blogging my life back to me: the wife, the love, the reading, the writing, the travelling, the thing with teaching ... just tell me some lotto numbers and I'll fix everything from my end.


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