All are Born Mad, Some Remain So

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"Men, it has been well said, think in herds; it will be seen that they go mad in herds, while they only recover their senses slowly, and one by one."
- Charles Mckay, "The Madness of Crowds"

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Sunday in London, in what was effectively a seven hour job interview. In which I did most of the listening.

Meerkats is not what you'd call a conventional language school. Aside from the slightly silly name, and the location - Montana, in Bulgaria - and the fact that it's not a money laundering front or a certificate shop for people who need to pretend they have an education...is the ethos of quality over quantity, honest dealings and perfectionism.

That's in a country where bribery, incompetence, corruption and lies are, shall we say, the basis of business. Yes, I know that's true of every country, but it's really true there. The government overhauls the tax laws every few months, and the government inspectors live, shall we say, on unsolicited informal contributions from corporations.

The fellow in change of the school, a former long-haulage trucker, got 200 CVs from teachers and only followed up one - mine! Hey, can I help it that I'm so impressive? He wants someone who can:

* Set up and maintain the computer network
* Put together multimedia presentations
* Do graphic design and make a website
* Put some flashy advanced degree certificates on the wall
* Teach IT to staff and students
* Teach English

...and that, it seems, is me. Who da man? Me da man. I always suspected. In fact, I am so much da man that he's willing to wait a year while I get some experience in Russia before offering me a job. Or rather, half a dozen jobs.

Assuming (a) I'm not put off teaching for life by whatever happens in Russia and (b) the deeply honourable and barking mad Meerkats isn't mauled to death by impossible circumstance.

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Meanwhile, the school in Moscow are now promising they'll have invitations and visas all sorted out by the 25th. Fair enough - that leaves me enough time to sort out the rather complicated and pitfallsome international banking, and I can set a provisional leaving date for February 1st.

I'm supposedly starting that stupid training scheme yet again on the 28th. This time I think I'll actually go in, explain the situation and ask whether they want me for four days - if they say yes I'll tell them where they can shove it.

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It has rained every night for the last seven days. Each evening MK has texted me to arrange a conjugal visit, and each night he can't make it because it's pissing down with rain. Anyone would think God didn't want people to have gay sex.

Actually, some parts of the UK are getting flood rains - as is now traditional this time of year. Part of the tradition is the BBC reporting it with great surprise. I wonder if there's a correlation between climate change denial and living on high ground.

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One of my back teeth just decided to break apart for no apparent reason. So, dentist tomorrow, and in the meantime I'm preventing the sharp edges from cutting my cheek and tongue - by blunting them with a nail-file.

I'm not sure it should be physically possible to painlessly file one's own back teeth, but it seems to be helping.

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What kind of music do you associate with Texas? Redneck rock? Nashville fingerpicking? "Oh both types - Country and Western"? How about melodic synthpop a la Human League or Marseaux?

Fellowshipwreck are a net label featuring mostly-downloadable bands from Texas, whose spiritual home is the UK circa 1985. I recommend Hyperbubble (grrls 'n' bleeps), The Solar Panel and Grace DuVin (electro covers of 70s standards that ought to be sarcastic but somehow aren't).

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Faced with this kind of thing - artists who make music for love not money, disseminating their work without letting the labels take a cut - EMI have taken decisive action. They say they need to embrace the digital age and do more than just sell CDs.

And how are they achieving this? They're sacking thousands of their staff.

And, er, nothing else.

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