It's late on sunday night, I have classes tomorrow, I feel vaguely ill, yet still I have to write something, mainly because I haven't done anything about it for a while. Over on my ELT blog, I'll be writing about the English UK Teachers' Conference in a bit more detail: Suffice it to say, I did a bloody good job of it, and succeeded in getting people talking about my ideas. Unfortunately, I couldn't stay for the whole thing, as I got a dreadful migraine and had to get out of the place.
I blame the migraine on the stress of doing the presentation, although to be honest it could be a whole gamut of things right now, mainly focusing on the banks and why they are such twats. The halifax have been chasing Nur for a non-existent debt, and I'm afraid to say that I have been phoning them up and sounding exactly like the sort of jumped-up idiot I've always hoped to avoid becoming, threatening this, that and the other to the sod on the other end of the line. In fact, banking call centres have for some reason become a bane to me over the last month or so. To add to my current state of general irritation and incipient apoplexy, we have observations going on next week.
And yet, at the same time, it all somehow doesn't matter. Don't ask me why: It's just this feeling I have that in some obscure way that I don't really understand or even see exactly, everything's turned a corner and is about to get better. Maybe it's because I'm on the verge of being forty and giving up.