Hello internets. Just thought I'd pop by to let you know that:
(a) the PGCE is going great guns (though I haven't actually been allowed near a child yet, so this may well be the calm before the storm)
and
(b) well, I think this one deserves a picture:
I cycled home over Blackfriars Bridge late last night. A balmy evening, an empty road, the night air gentle on my bare arms, the river below and London's lights surrounding me like a dream. Moments like that should be preserved in amber.
Earlier in the day, sitting outside the National Theatre, my back against an oversized astroturf sofa, the afternoon sun on my face, nothing in my mind except the thought that if this isn't nice then I don't know what is. Cerulean blue sky. City buzz. Buses.
After many months of waiting and anxiety and bouts of despair, there is light at the end of the tunnel. And, for once, it has turned out not to be a train.
I thought it was a train, though. A big, black train of evil disaster steaming straight towards me.
To move away from the locomotive imagery for a second, you may remember that a while back I decided to jack in the acting in favour of becoming a primary school teacher. This turned out to be a lot harder than I thought. Bloody recession. I got rejected by my first choice of institution (though wasn't too bothered, as I didn't like the feel of the place - too snooty, I thought). Then my second choice University filled all their places in super-quick time, meaning my application couldn't be considered. So I moved onto my third choice, London South Bank University, and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
After a while, I called the admissions department, who told me that it took 6-8 weeks to process an application.
I waited some more.
Nine weeks after my application had gone to LSBU, I called admissions again. They told me I would hear that afternoon. I didn't. I called the next day - "You'll hear by the end of this afternoon". Nope. Rinse and repeat for about a week until the weary admissions officer finally told me that I had an interview.
I went to the interview last week. It was like 'The X-Factor', in that we started the day with loads of people and around lunchtime half of them were told to go home. Urgh. I made it through to the second round (trying not to think of Susan Boyle, and instead attempting to channel Diversity vibes) and had reason to feel hopeful.
Then today I looked at the GTTR (Graduate Teacher Training Register) website to track my application. And was horrified to see that the status had been changed to "WITHDRAWN".
What?
So I call up the nice lady at the GTTR, who tells me that my application has been withdrawn from LSBU because I "didn't turn up to the interview."
WHAT??
I DID turn up at the interview, I protest. It was a really, really long day. They made me do a writing test and a pretend lesson and a big long group discussion about diversity (not the X-Factor winners). It was knackering and nerve-wracking and I had to go to the loo for number twos about five times and I WAS DEFINITELY THERE.
The nice lady at the GTTR suggests that I call the admissions officer at LSBU. I do. He's not answering his phone. I leave two somewhat teary messages on his answerphone, then email him. Twice. I wander round the reception at Clerkenwell Towers, hyperventilating. I consider going home so I can have a really good cry.
Then my mobile rings. It is the chap from the admissions office. He is apologetic - yes, my application has been withdrawn (hyperventilate, hyperventilate) BUT they had accidentally duplicated my application so they were just cancelling off one of them (breathing more normally now). So sorry about that.
Oh, and they have decided to offer me a place on the PGCE Primary course starting in September. A letter is on its way.
Well, that's alright then.
While I was at home over Christmas, I found myself at a bit of a loose end one day so I decided to have a browse through my mum's old cookery books. And what treasures lay therein! In one particularly old book, full of clippings from 1970s magazines, I found a glorious recipe that may in fact epitomize everything that was wrong with cooking in the Decade That Taste Forgot. Ladies, gentlemen, I give you... Ham Rolls (Italian Style):
Let's have a closer look at the picture, shall we?
Yum-o!
Now, I know what you're saying to yourself right now. You're saying, "My God! All these years, my ham rolls have just been English Style! How parochial of me! How do I make this delightful dish? TELL ME NOW!"
Well fear not, for I shall lovingly transcribe the recipe for you. Here, in this blog post! The ingredients are as follows:
1 1/2 pints of packet minestrone soup (the powdered taste of Italy!)
1 level teaspoon salt (in case the rest of the ingredients don't contain enough sodium chloride)
8oz quick cook macaroni (because the Italians are always in a hurry. They have no time to wait for pasta to cook! Presto! Presto! Andiamo!)
6 processed cheese slices (do not even think about using any other type of cheese. Parmesan? I spit on your parmesan!)
4 slices cooked ham (and none of your prosciutto cotto, per favore, or you'll be sleeping with the fishes. Capisce?)
So you've gathered together all these fine ingredients. What now? Well hold your horses there, fella, I was just coming to that.
1. Add 1 3/4 pints of water to the soup and salt. Bring to boil. Add macaroni. Cover and simmer for 20 mins, stirring occasionally.
2. Place a cheese slice on each slice of ham and roll up.
3. Cut the remaining cheese slices into four triangles.
(Of course, you could be a bit more creative here - how about cutting the cheese into the shape of Italy? Or trimming them into a profile of Il Duce?)
4. Pour macaroni into shallow dish, arrange ham on top and put cheese triangles (or whatever) on the top of the ham. Grill until the cheese is golden brown.
I guarantee, if you eat this you will immediately be able to speak fluent Italian. You will also find that you are suddenly a more passionate lover, who is unable to talk without gesticulating and is filled with the urge to elect corrupt media tycoons with dyed hair.
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