Well, it turns out that Jason's Father stupidly believed that I was offering to teach English. Not only that but he informed me that he would pay half my fees up-front with the remainder to follow when he was satisfied that our 12hours together would leave his son 'fluent' - needless to say I passed on that opportunity.
However, I do now have a job - hoorah - as well as two further interviews tomorrow. And, pending CRB (proof, I believe that I am not a paedophile) clearance I will be a fully regstered Tutor to the stars (apparently the agency for whom I work - who charge a princely £55 for an hour of my time - count the illustious Mr Abramovic amongst their clients).
It seems that I am now in a sense at least a Knowledge Salesman; although it could be very legitimately and reasonably argued that I am more of a Prostitute of Knowledge, and you may rest assured that the light-roasting of my dearly held principles that this private position requires is not lost on me, and does cause me some degree of pain and sleeplessness: money does, after all, talk very loudly sometimes.
You may also rest more assuredly knowing that my health and well-being have taken an enormous turn for the better now that I have a permanent address. Our flat is very big and really rather lovely - as well as available for a more-than reasonable overnight rate should you require/wish some time in this Quagmire (I mean city).
That's it for today, and if you miss the self-(indulgently)-loathing tone of the previous posts then I apologise. It seems that you can't be a troubled writer AND live in a generally well-appointed and expensive furnished flat, which does dent my future dreams somewhat.
Regards,
Calum 'Smiler' Mechie.
16 years ago
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment