London life has swallowed me again in an alarmingly short space of time. I am back at the GP practice, where nothing whatsoever has changed, I walk the dog, I sit in front of the mirror and fry the ends of my hair in futile attempts to make it curl. I blanch at the idea of cold showers, and carefully monitor my dwindling supply of gin sachets. My tan, to my intense dismay, is beginning to fade.
Still, I hang on grimly to the school wherever I can. I have a photograph of some of the boys I used to teach as my computer screensaver, and I chat to them frequently, while I'm doing my bits and pieces of writing, or just tidying my bedroom. I don't have a huge amount to tell them, and often it's just regular assurances that I will be getting them a new classroom, and they don't have to worry.
Yes, GOM and I are on a mission, and our project with the school is just starting to get off the ground. The Rev. has had plans drawn up by an architect, they have opened a bank account, and managed to get some planning permission. In my turn, I have opened an online appeal for donating money to the school, and am toying with a vague notion of jumping fully-clothed into my university lake during freshers' week in return for sponsorship...
I have every faith that we'll be able to get a new building for the school, and I will return to Ghana early next year.
