Good evening.
I have returned to my haunt in Sutton, at long last. The work I had to give in on the 10th was a doddle. The first thing I got finished was the Orchestration (with some 11th hour suggestions from my tutor which I managed to slot in) and Composition - I was so proud of the Stravinskyesque composition ('Quagmire') that I had a second copy bound in Media Services to show to any interested publishers, agents, and the like. Then I finished the 4,000 word essay, having written 3,800 by Friday before the Monday it was due, but then I finished the Debussy prelude for analysis ahead of schedule, so just for the hell of it I wrote another 400, making 4,200. Very nice.
The 4,000 word essay was for my 1960s module - I managed to blag a tutorial with the lecturer about 2 days before I finished writing those 3,800 words, and he was quite happy with my work, so that's good. He also suggested I write a rock opera for when I do major composition next year ... which is interesting. If I made the rock opera and the vector calculus piece long/big enough then that would be all the composition I would have to do for 40 credits (plus 2 orchestrations, but that's piss.) ... so I'm giving serious thought to that. Something like The Who's Tommy would be amazing. Although I'm thinking more Avril Lavigne meets Pavarotti. Hahaha.
Been for a job interview today at long last - but I've spent all day going around Surrey, it seems. The fiasco started off when I got a call on Thursday from someone called Lisa, who said that they'd be happy to interview me today at 1.30, and would I go to Thorpe Park. I made it there, 5 minutes late, but human resources at Thorpe Park were closed, so only cast facilities were open, meaning, in short, that they weren't ready to interview me. After calling the head of Rides down, it was established that ... there was nobody called Lisa in Rides at Thorpe Pk. So it transpires that this idiot woman has sent me to Thorpe Pk, when really she wanted me to go to interview at Chessington, who had been waiting for me since 1.30. *slaps head very hard.* So I get there and there are people waiting to interview me, which I should expect. The questions were dull and boring ('describe a time when you delivered good customer experience') and it was a doddle really. And another plus was the girl interviewing me was fit as fuck. I swear, only a knob-head with half a brain could fail a Chessington interview. In which case, you're probably American.
I will be busy over summer anyway, because my personal tutor gave me an application form for 'Tactus', which is writing for symphony orchestra for 10 minutes, and the deadline is 29 September. So I have all summer to concoct something. Because the organisers are stingy bastards, you have to fly yourself out to Brussels, but you get to talk to the orchestra about how you want your piece performed, and there's a series of public concerts featuring your work, so your name appears in the programme, so it's really quite prestigious.
Neither me nor my dad can be arsed to cook tonight, so we have bought a huge Indian and a six-pack of beer ... the whole first series of The Thin Blue Line is on cable tv tonight anyway. Good times ...
When I see you smile first thing in the morning. It raises curtains on your lazy eyes. This could be the greatest love on any street in any town, it's not for anybody else to know.
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