Half Way There

I'm 3 down, with 5 to go when it comes to my marathon set of shifts, and I have to say I'm not feeling any better on the illness front. I'm starting to sound a little bit like Chewbacca, coughing like a banshee and for an hour or two tonight, I was temporarily deaf, which wasn't handy when drunk people were attempting to tell me what they would like to kill themselves with, cigarette wise.

It's all gone haywire at the "berp" at the moment. For some reason, many, many people have been granted holiday, leaving the remaining servants, if that's a suitable word, to cover every shift. I did end up having last Thursday off, but I still have to do 8 nights out of 9, with a couple of other people doing similar shift patterns, and Legend Alex giving himself 10 duty manager shifts out of 10 to cover the workload. Many places are closed today, because of Her Majesty's Bank Holiday, but BP remains open, churning out fuel and other goods on a day-to-day basis, never ceasing. Never stopping. Never closing. The demands on that place are very high, and to be stuck there, on a full-time job, with very little option but to stay, must send you insane. I am pleased I am going to University soon.

Talking of which, I am starting to worry. Worrying that I don't really know how to prepare properly. Anxious that I might not really get the hang of going back into education, a few years after making a meal of the last time, and nervous that I might get landed with a group of morons who I will have no choice but to put up with. The negative side of things has come back to haunt me recently, and I'm afraid my brain can't really get out of the pessimistic method it uses to get by.

Cricket didn't happen again today. Probably a good thing, given my impending death. I didn't pull out this time, but the weather had other ideas, which means the season has ended on a very damp note. In review, I have had a poor season. Only two knocks of 119 and 80 are really worth talking about, although somehow I have finished with a higher average than last season. My fielding has probably lived up to it's high expectations, but I would honestly expect nothing less. It's time to avert attention, once more, on to football, and to concentrate on the ratio of playing to refereeing. I probably won't play when it comes to University, and I probably will end up refereeing down in Sussex, if I can sort it out. I'm not really certain how enthusiastic I am about it though, and whether I would want to wake up for 10.30am on a Sunday morning, after a Saturday night in Brighton...

Many questions, and not many answers at the moment. Will I make friends? Will I be able to get back into the education swing of things? Will I survive living on my own? Will I continue with the refereeing? Will I survive this acute case of the Black Plague and will the end of my marathon set of shifts ever come to an end? Only time will tell.

"Be who you are, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."