Well, wish me luck. Tomorrow, in what appears to be terminal gales in these here parts, I go to Glasgow to hand over one third of an unfeasibly large amount of money (you can pay in instalments, thank the Lord) in order to register for the Masters degree in Creative Writing.
Writing it down makes it sound even more ludicrous.
Anyway, after registration ("M"s: 13:30hrs) there is the Creative Writing Induction at 14:00hrs, during which I'll still be pondering who allocated half an hour to all the "M"s in Scotland (for it is registration time for all the Postgraduate College of Arts students; that's Mc, Mac etc plus all the Morrisons, Maxwells, Menzies and Micawbers...?). At 17:30hrs there is the Graduate School Induction (I think - am I a PGT student or not? What does PGT mean?) and then, most terrifyingly of all, there is the Reading Party at 18:00hrs. Until 20:00hrs. What the hell happens at a Reading Party? Do you read? Do they read? Does anyone read? Do we all read and not talk to each other? And a lot of this is taking place in either the Anatomy Lecture Theatre or the Anatomy Museum. Ominous.
Most of all: what if no one likes me?
As you can see, rather like the night before your first wedding, I'm a little trepidatious.
Should I just take the money and run?
If you tend to prayer, do.
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