A distorted view of the World Cup from a Scottish perspective. I really shouldn't care and the truth is that I don't. The World cup is like some sporting, animated wallpaper, good in short bursts, funny if laughing at the pundits and puzzling when the players and officials behave strangely. It's all too serious because it is serious. A set of moving adverts for Korean cars and American beer, training shoes and Russian gas companies, oh and Ally McCoist's pseudo philosophical observations. I'm really hypnotized.
Elsewhere I enjoyed a job interview via telephone with a lady called Jackie. We talked for 53 minutes. It was pleasant enough. I probably said too much but at the same time failed to use the correct set of words or current terminology no doubt. Maybe I'm the right man for the job, maybe I'm an idiot. I'll hover between these views until my misery is ended by another phone call or email, that's how it is. That unavoidable procession of hope, guilt and WTF carelessness drawn to a concrete halt by the strength of a dose of reality. Caught up in life's brilliant soup or, better in most respects, fruit salad. Today's fruity salad got by with being light on fruit varieties, just pineapple and an unseen banana. I grow healthier and less affected each day.
P.S. Just received a phone call, I got the job.
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