That is the best I can say about it. I got home weary after my evening class to find on the doorstep a spray of flowers and a note from Aberlene. Inside on the mat, with several bills, lay a note from Aggie, who now had the flu herself. Had I remembered the binmen and her plants? I did the weekend’s curtains and lights routine again. Then I forced myself to eat – I do a truly reprehensible cheese on toast, oozing with Worcester sauce and raw garlic – and reached for the day’s Guardian. The education section. And a possible job in Huddersfield! A promotion. A nice part of the world to live. The Choral Society and infinite numbers of Messiahs! George used to regale us with the story of the violinist who dreamt he was playing Messiah in Yorkshire and woke up to find he was. There was a phone number, so I used it, and started to draft my CV. I have taught students, every year for the last ten, how to draw up a CV. We discuss what’s relevant and what order to put it in. I remind them always to keep a copy, preferably on disk, so they can constantly update it.
