As Busy Days Go

So today I sent seven letters into the ether.  One was quite literally into the ether, as I had to e-mail a copy of the various university forms I must fill in every day.  I am honestly surprised it's so difficult to sign up at university, everyone is so cash-light at the moment that I half expected that I fill in credit card details first.

The other letters are winging their way to England and Korea.  My old boss is getting a letter, I started off at odds with her, but when nan died she did quadruple back-flips to ensure I got back to England in time for the funeral - from this point I realised that her heart was in the right place (I'll put the earlier disagreements down to cultural differences.)  Family will get the rest.

The only problem is that I wrote half a dozen messages over the course of six weeks, all failing to adhere to typical chronological structures.  They were a nightmare to piece together, and none of them read like a logical, coherent being wrote them.  They look like the beginning of a P.K.Dick novel.  In essence, indecipherable.

More embarrassing, I'm pretty sure I wrote about une fille charmant (my old housemate taught me how to say that around three years ago, thanks Josh.  Just remembered it for some reason) who is rather endearing, as they tend to be.  Alas, if that letter ends up with the wrong recipient, I will simply die of shock (in a desperate housewives voice).

However, in general, when I write letters I set out with an agenda, and then abandon it three lines in.

Much the same as this blog, if I'm honest.

If you're reading this Ria, this is both how to write a blog, and most certainly how not to write one.  Take inspiration/heed from the messages within!

So today was busy because I had to rush out at lunch to dispatch letters on a combined journey of around 20,000 miles, madness when you think about it.  50 pence each.  Utterly bonkers, but I imagine you can fit a large number of letter in a 747.

I also bid farewell to a pair of pants in the mail, but that is most certainly a story for another time!

My lunchtime finally over, I worked the final two lessons of the day, afterwards heading off to pay my insurance bill - only to find that they close at 4pm.  Bearing in mind no one works after 9 am, or finishes before 5 here; just as in England.  Opening at 9 am and closing at 4 pm is like driving an ice-cream van in front of a fat kid, just fast enough that he will never reach the infinite bounties held within.  Needless to say, as I was the fat kid in this scenario I was not amused.

I am that kid.  That poor, poor child.  As the expert commentator says, 'Ice Cream Denied.'

I'll have to think of something tomorrow.  Fat kids are devious, after all.

Talking of fat kids.  In a month or so, one of the teachers at the mountain school is having an open day for parents and teachers alike (it really is the smallest school) involving ice cream and fruits.  While I'm not too keen on the fruit idea, I'm all over the ice-cream.  Alas, it's being held on a Wednesday, which would require rejigging my schedule.  Now, obviously speaking, I'm all for that; and there is a precedent with such events.  The teacher at the middle school who proposes such matters is part of the anti-fun league, Japan chapter.  To be frank, he probably founded the organisation.  He's so typically Japanese in that sense, and his general demeanour, and his look, and his habits, that he's basically a racist stereotype of Japanese office workers.  Therefore, I doubt he'll grant leave, just for fun.  Being the devious fat-kid-at-heart that I am, I will think of something.  ICE CREAM, YES.  Fruit, meh.

That's all I can think of for now.  If you're family, expect some mail.  It (probably) won't be lethal, it's okay.