I was wearing shorts and sandals, and a big sheet of plastic. I looked massively ridiculous and I did not care.
Is it a bad thing that I am participating in this process, even though I now know that I realistically do not want the job, even if offered it?
The old man has started to rant about leaving his closest family, about spending more time with his children. The children within earshot roll their eyes: they remember how he left them before.
It had to be an early night, and you aren’t allowed to touch the local moonshine. It’s an early train up in to the mountains to the next flat. Everything has to be packed up again.
If you’re a frequent visitor to this blog you’ll know that I have a bit of a thing for the Nordic Lands. Nordic place names, whether in Scandinavia, Iceland or in England have been a source of fascination for me for years.
If you find yourself listening to the words which someone has used, and saying “obviously, what they meant was…”, chances are that you did not listen to what they said.
Full disclosure: I am an incredibly angry person, but that does not mean that I hate. The two are too often conflated.