Special

Imagine the scene. Me, sitting in the lounge, with the TV stuck on Channel 81, with the Prime Minister's Questions in full flow. I take a quick glance at it every now and then, only paying real attention when Richard Fuller's name is shouted out by the bellowing Speaker. I look up at the screen to hear what he has to contribute to the jousting competition happening between opposite benches below. It isn't anything particularly important, although he does mention Bedford, (as he should, seeing as he is our MP), but the subject of his words are of no interest to someone of my social standing. The only real thing I can take from the whole charade of PMQ's is the fact that our MP, our representative, for our wonderful town of Bedford, Richard Fuller... Looks like Hitler.

Anyway. I'm babbling. Setting the scene is always something I was actually quite good at when asked to write a story or passage of some sort back in school . It's a shame I didn't carry on with English as a subject through my A-Level days, although back then, it wasn't even an option. The thought of slaving over 'The Great Gatsby' and the like, when I could of been out playing cricket or football filled me with dread.

Talking of decisions, today brought a pretty big one. I have decided, upon much deliberation, that I am going to go down the Police Force route. It was a route I considered before the University option, and I think it has the right mix of "on your feet" activity and desk work and has a good variety of career aspects and routes to go down. How did I come to this decision? I have no idea. And again, I have absolutely no idea if it's certainly the right route for me to go down, but it is far and away the most realistic choice, in terms of me surviving it. Besides, the way things have worked out, I think I have certainly given myself enough time to decide if going for a career in this field is right for me. As I shall now explain.

Going back to politics again, I suppose, and seeing that the world is in crisis and severe cuts are being made by governments all over the world, the UK included, the Police Force is going on a diet. Savings are trying to be made all across the board, so no Police Force is employing at the moment. However, given that savings are trying to be made, some forces, (apart from Bedfordshire seemingly), are attempting to recruit Special Constables. This afternoon, I spent a good couple of hours sifting through the application form for Special Constables in the Metropolitan Police Service, and I have a good feeling I will be accepted. If you don't know, the role of 'Special Constable' is a voluntary role, (with expenses etc. paid for you), so I will be finding a part-time job aswell as refereeing to get some money in the kitty.

My plan is then, to combine a part-time job and being a Special Constable until Forces start employing again, which, (if I have figured out if the career is right for me, through the Specials), will signal the beginning of a new career! If it isn't for me, we're back at square one. I do hope not. However, I nearly made a grave error this afternoon in accidentally disagreeing to take a Substance Misuse Test, (a requirement for the application to be considered), before I spotted my mistake. I had still sent the application off however, so I have to ring tomorrow to get them to change it. Not the best of starts...

Hopefully this is the one for me, but I am not going to presume it is. You never know with me, after a major breakdown of communication between my heart and my head, (remember Manchester in February 2011? SmartMove Dec 2010? GoOutdoors May 2011?), I tend to look on things with a fresh slate in front of me, before things start bogging me down. So, who knows!

And one of my concerns, is that on certain days, especially with Winter coming, I'll feel terribly bad and depressed and my thoughts on what I want will become blurred and disfigured. No ambition will be present, and all I will want to do is mope around and do nothing all day. I had one of these days yesterday. It was horrible. In the morning, I felt as bad as I had done for a long while, choosing to walk to town to clear my head, and buying a baguette and some chocolate fudge cake along the way. It's not really a pattern that can go on, and I'm slightly afraid that I'll end up becoming a person who just waits for the next down stage. The next time you'll feel rubbish. The next time you'll just want the ground to open up and swallow you. And I don't want that. Who wants that?

Next weekend however, is a quickly-arranged trek to BeddoeLand, otherwise known as Manchester. We all remember what happened on the last occasion we graced their shores, and rest assured, I will not be even thinking about going that mad again. I look forward to it though, and there does seem to be a rather large bottle of vodka in my cupboard-of-many-things that needs to be seen off. Good times.

I've waffled for way too long. It's now 1am, and I have an appointment with my career advisor tomorrow, although I feel that is going to be rather redundant given today's revelation. But I will make the best time of it anyway.

Wish me luck in my latest escapade. No doubt I will need it, at some stage.