...just submitted my last piece of work for my Creative Writing course. It is worth 50% of the total mark. I'm pretty sure I'll pass but it is still a nervous time...I don't want to just pass, I want a nice ego massage and to be told that I am just what the literary world is waiting for. I want a commission, recognition, paid work, to be in print...ahh, to be in print.
Survived the birthday - all happy and asleep, aged 7 and 4 AND we're having the party at a play centre not at the house. Big expense, but Ade was like,
'I don't need stress outside of work,'
'Fair enough, that is £298 please, Mr Chester - kerching, kerching'
Must admitt, I am pretty happy about it - minimal effort, fuss, all done and dusted, but there is the control freak part of me that is a tiny weeny bit gutted. Kind of liked the idea of letting the primary school teacher in me come out - make a line please, no pushing in, you'll all get a turn, etc, etc.
Oh well, need to try and drum up a bit more enthusiasm for the garden I suppose, which is Ade's latest obsession - sheds, decking rah rah. I really don't know how big a 'ten be eight' is, so he kindly lays out sticks for me so i can weakly voice some kind of opinion. 'I just want to watch Britain's Got Talent,' I want to shout as I smile and thank my lucky stars that at least one of us gives a s***!
Gotta love him.
The wedding draws closer - need to get my frock!
Until tomorrow, Cam
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