Eleven Weeks to Departure

My briefing is due to occur this Sunday, in Reading. I wonder how one gets to Reading. To be honest, all I know about Reading is that the Chatterback absolutely hates it there. Still, by the end of the week I will know where I've been placed, who I shall be working with, who my adopted family for six months will be...

The tension is killing me. Fortunately, I have things to do in the interim. Like staggering through gale-force winds to get to the post office, which for once, is not on strike.

"I need a special delivery envelope for my visa application, I think."

"You talk very fast." she says cheerfully.

"...Oh-kay. Um, the envelope?"

"Are you sure you need it?"

Stagger home again ten minutes later, nothing achieved. And now, sitting at the kitchen table with visa application forms, police disclosures, banking statements, multiple invoices, and a hugely long-winded travel insurance policy, I realise that yes, I do need the special envelope after all. I will now have to go back to the post office, and my luck is such that it will be exactly the same woman I have to talk to.

I do wonder sometimes whether I'm actually fit to be a teacher. You certainly wouldn't think so looking at my passport photographs, which are going to go on my Visa application. In short, I have the cold, dead eyes of a killer. I'd like to think that this was because of the 'NO smiling, NO expression, NO movement, NO bodily hair' attitude towards passport photographs these days, but you never know... I have to keep checking the list of things needed for the briefing- no doubt the one thing I will forget shall be the most vital component of all. Ah- valid certificate for yellow fever inoculation, goody goody. More needles. Still have about three jabs to go, and now work is threatening to administer the Swine Flu vaccine on me because I'll be helping out at the flu clinics... Perhaps I should point out that if they give me the vaccine it will actually render my helping out redundant, I'll only be fit for sitting in the corner and twitching...

I am slightly angsty about meeting all my volunteer companions face to face, feel I'm bound to do something memorably stupid if I get nervous enough. During an online conversation with another volunteer a couple of weeks ago I got swiftly through the topics of agas, gas marks, and elderflower champagne before implying that he lived in the backarse of nowhere, and lost his love forever. I couldn't help it, he did Further Maths, Physics, Chemistry and Biology at A-Level, and I've never been able to deal with scientists. I'm just anxious that he'll remember our exchange and hit me with a croquet mallet before I've had a chance to introduce myself to anyone else.

Still, I heard from The Stud yesterday, and there's a party on Saturday night- so at least I can wear the dress that's just sitting in my wardrobe, crying "you don't love me..."