Death by mockery

I feel rather swamped. Perhaps because I am.

This evening was an interview skills affair at school. Interview practice, in short. Louise's Dad was doing some interviewing, and hers was (with someone else, called Dr Christmas. I colour to admit, I giggled) early on. I was looking for Mikey, and she for Elliot. Then we discovered that they had both gone, so we decided we would follow suit. Her Dad was still interviewing away (very well, I might add) so I offered a lift home. She lives nowhere near to my house as I thought. I got lost on the way home, and had to call her from a library car park. I now realise where I was, but had no idea at the time. Regina Spektor kept me calm.

As I type, the bell on my desk, the kind you imagine on the reception desk in Fawlty Towers, attempts to sound. It's most odd.

My words-underlined-with-a-red-squiggle count is now up to four. Werhayy.

Anyway, as I adverted to before, I have much to do. So anon.