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?
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.
We spent the day exploring riverside hides and watching the birds feed. We played “What am I talking about?” and got back indoors before the rain got going.
To the British mind Australia is the dictionary definition of paradise.
We live in a perpetual gloom, where the only true communal activity is moaning about how gloomy it is.
Sometimes I develop a romantic notion in my head of a place – somewhere I have usually never even been to – which bears absolutely no relation to reality. Well, now it is the turn of Canada.
I find conversations really hard work. I am shy, I am awkward and I am not the most comprehensible person when I speak.