Saturday, 20 September 2014

The Thin Letter

Back in the seventies I was in the local Cubs' football team, actually I was the substitute. The first match of the season took place on the day the family Pearl were to set off on holiday. So, the car all packed, my parents dutifully took me to the match in my strip and boots. Standing on the sidelines I was the only sub and, as we were well ahead at half time, I was hoping to be called upon in the second half. Later the score being something like 10-0 with ten minutes to go I told my father I thought we should hang on as I might be needed. I stood hopefully, shivering a little. Then the final whistle came. We had won, of course. I went back to the car where mum and brother had been waiting. It had been raining the whole time. 

Yesterday I received a phone call appertaining to my application for a commission in Bedfordshire. There were eleven artists in the running for eight places, good odds I thought. 

This morning  a letter arrived from Norwich with the results of my interview to become a lecturer (part time, one year, fixed term, hourly). I believe there were four or five of us and two posts. 

It is raining. 

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