Rush, Rush

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“I do not rule Russia; ten thousand clerks do”
- Tsar Nicholas I

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Here's the short version:

Russia's probably off, Bulgaria's probably on.

The slightly longer version:

The school in Russia have, thanks to the incompetence of various agencies and the deliberate delaying tactics of the Russian civil service, not got their paperwork ready by the promised date - yesterday.

In fact, they won't be sending out invitations for another two weeks. At least. Probably more.

So, I called up Bulgaria, and asked them, seeing as they'd expressed interest in me working for them when the Russian contract was finished, whether they'd be interested in having me sooner - like next week. They said yes, they'd love to have me, but they just need to do some of their own paperwork first.

The Russian option has a lot to recommend it - a stable school, high wages, and good student attitudes. On the downside the school is regimented and culturally the cold war is back.

The Bulgarian school has...whatever the opposite of regimentation is, but the wages are low and the local culture parochial.

I'd enjoy Bulgaria a lot more, have a great deal more freedom in teaching and a more varied job description. I'd just get paid half as much, and the job security is quite a bit less.

I should know whether they're ready for me by Monday. It would be ironic if they weren't, and I'd wind up somewhere completely different - like, for instance, Vietnam.

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A lovely day out today with C, spent browsing bookshops, occasionally buying stuff and taking a great deal of good natured rubbish. Surreal word association, bad puns and scatology circa 1955 - things we're both quite good at but which he could do at olypmic level.

We had breakfast together (two cups of tea each and an amazingly sticky flapjack from a cafe), and a little later lunch (more tea and another flapjack from the same place).

Our birthdays are a few days apart so we exchanged gifts. He got a box-set of excruciatingly bad sci-fi movies (which was originally supposed to be for christmas but nevermind) and I got...some rather good sci-fi books.

We probably won't meet again before I leave, so it was good to spend a few hours together.

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And in the evening, duty. In this case, that means buying food, selecting a piece of domestic junk, taking both to a fundraising event, paying to get in, eating other people's food, buying raffle tickets for other people's junk, and watching a movie for two hours about corrupt corporations, police violence and workers' struggle.

Before walking home in the cold, stopping off for promised oral sex with an old acquaintance, and finally sleeping exhausted on a wonderfully overwarm electric blanket. In other words, business before pleasure.

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Well that was the plan. In fact the film was great stuff and the acquaintance cancelled.

But I did come away with four pork pies, three blocks of cheese, two salamis and a loaf of bread. And a chicken drumstick.

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There's a little mouse, dark brown and not more than two inches nose-to-tail, perched on the edge of my chair, industriously chewing on half a peanut held between its front legs.

This one is (I think) Ernie. I've know he(/she) was around for the last week, from the rustlings of plastic and paper, and the occasional squeak. In the dark the noises are a bit sinister, but with the light on, munching away, Ernie is...just very cute.

A disease carrying parasite, yes, but a cute one.

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