Unpublishable

 ** PLEASE NOTE. THIS WEEK I HAVE CHANGED NAMES TO PSEUDONYMNS. YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO FIGURE OUT WHO IS WHO IF YOU HAVE BEEN READING **

It’s been a mild case of three buses coming at once of late, I wonder if it’s something to do with people fearing lomesoneness at Christmas. You may recall I use the dating app ‘Plenty of Fish’? It’s been time consuming without being fruitful but I’ve had some minor success, of late. Last week I met a discus thrower and though she’s nice I don’t think she's a good fit and I've gently said as much to her. She said lots of couples have nothing in common and not to over-think things. Two, I’ve spent a lot of time talking to a carer who appreciates bad jokes. Given time it might have turned into a date, a nice relationship and then a break up due to differences which were always obvious, but not necessarily because her favourite song is The Tower, by Chris de Burgh but then third... A biker approached me this week and moved with bikeresque swiftness and guile. She kept disappearing for long stretches, a numbers game I expect, but within about three days she asked if I wanted to meet for a coffee. As she’s only about twenty minutes drive away I said yes, but at this stage if she cancelled I wouldn’t mind.

We’re meeting outside a cemetery (my idea) and I’ve got to bring two coffees from a nearby McDonald’s drive-thru (her idea). She’s selected ‘Prefer not to say’ under the ‘Do you want children’ question in her profile, which I would think means ‘I don’t want to scare anyone off’ and given that we’ve hardly said much to each other the whole thing feels a bit biological clocky. I’d be very surprised if she turned out to be my soulmate.

Still, my date’s profile pics are weirdly appropriate. Women normally put pictures up that show how sorted and wonderful their live is. Them with ten friends, them with white teeth and healthy gums, them in their well appointed kitchen. Of course, the obligatory picture of their lovely children, so you know what you’re signing up for.

Her pictures are drab and sad. The main one is an underexposed one of her in front of her computer with what looks like a year's supply of rubber gloves behind her*, the second just her motorbike, number three a picture of her drinking a cocktail with nobody else in the shot. Another is her at what appears to be a rugby game from the POV of someone who appears not to be with her, i.e a few seats along. And then another picture of her drinking. Compare those with a selfie in my bathroom, then a picture of me in front of my car, me putting my arm around a random large middle-aged woman I met in a bathhouse, a selfie in another bathroom, me in a hotel room, another selfie in a bathroom, a selfie in my lounge. Both our pictures say: this person has no life and no friends.

* Or maybe boxes of printer paper. She wiles away the evenings making origami sculptures out of second hand books.
 

And now on to this week’s round up.

Monday

Raisa’s child lit lecture. Her dress was noveau medieval romance, her boots helpful pixie.

“Have you noticed the absence of the feminine in The Hobbit?” she asked. No, Raisa, because I haven’t read it, but I'll keep a look out for it if I ever do.

Tuesday

I skipped The Magic Toyshop lecture at 9.00 AM, mainly because it’s ungodly hour but also because I’m genuinely finding the lectures to be pleasant and well structured but not that thought provoking. There’s nothing in them you can’t find in a book or your own head, if you are of an enquiring mind, and that was maybe proven today.

Alex gave a lecture on Harry Potter and the Philisopher’s Stone at 11.00 and that was an interesting prospect for me because I’d written about this book for my mid-term review. It seems I’d picked up on  the core points Alex made (that I could make in the very small word count allotted to me) and I think I spotted one or two possibly deeper and more ironic ones but I won't bore you with them here. 

In my view, Alex said something a bit daft about Hogwarts, Harry Potter's school. He was making a point about how Harry Potter the novel “re-packages Britain’s past” and that Hogwarts is “19^th century”. “They have to wear silly scarves and call the teachers ‘master’. Nobody goes to school like that anymore,” Alex said. Surely he's not unfamiliar with the concept of the contemporary public boarding school, which Hogwarts is so very obviously akin to? Places like Eton, Charterhouse and even my alma mater Lord Wandsworth College, where we called the teachers ‘master’, had four boarding houses- as there are in Hogwarts- and had fancy uniforms. Plus, Hogwarts is mixed, which would not apply to a 19th century boarding school. I can only assume Alex said that because he really means places like that shouldn’t exist and that Bangor University should really be called Bangor University for Marxists.

Sorry, I’m ranting. Do you know, when he said “nobody goes to school like that anymore” it annoyed me so much that I called out (I was front row), “It’s a public boarding school.”

Raisa looked across at me and smiled.

Wednesday

Let’s get onto Wednesday, which is Matthew and Diane. Matthew's was fine. A bit of lesson filler conversation which I can't remember and Diane's was a nice class, as well, but again if I’m honest I enjoy Diane’s classes because I like her. Her humanity, her eyes, the way she enjoys people and responds so affectionately to them. And her, well I can't talk about that in polite society. She is lovely and time spent in the company of someone you like is never wasted. Her actual teaching philosophies aren’t all getting into my thick skull. I’ve picked up that I need to plan my stories and I’m fine with that but her diagram that shows you how to do this I can make neither head nor tail of and most of the other stuff we’ve done is kind of obvious and you could read in a how to write a short story book you buy off Amazon for 99 pence. I shit you not.

Also, on Wednesday another compliment from a student that took me by surprise. A totally unfamiliar face greeted me on the stairs and I wondered why, I knew it wasn't someone on our course. She said,"I just wanted to say- about the film auditions- you were my favourite and your attention to detail was really good and you should keep doing what you're doing." Then she ran off smiling and shy. 

Thursday

So having just been hard on Alex I have to say his lectures on essay writing are very good. Very meticulous, and really no student should have an excuse for not getting an A or B in an essay. Unlike with child literature, there is a much clearer sense of what is expected of us in reading, writing and thinking. Alex pretty much gives you a template for success that can be followed like a dot the dot drawing and his observations about The Road to Wigan Pier are not especially deep, so if he’s giving himself an A, hey! We should all be able to get one.

Friday

Shut up.

Saturday

Sorry, my head’s exploded. Clearing up the mess. Um, final remarks. I enjoyed this week because I had fun bantering with Lorane. It was sad trying to let down my discus lover gently and not really succeeding in quite killing it off. I came up with a plan to write a murder novel and an erotic romance and half a dozen other books. It will be my New Year’s Resolution to write an Amazon Kindle book every 6 weeks. Hold me to it.