Futuristic

Hmmm.

I am in a very thoughtful frame of mind.

I am contemplating my existence.

I do not mean in a spiritual sort of way, no more than usual, at any rate. My mind has not been filled with mystical wonder about whether current scientific advances into knowledge of quarks and dark matter imply that the nature of consciousness is in fact a soul, although I confess that such speculations do occupy my walks, occasionally, when I am not gassing to other dog-walkers or pondering about why the new tree-planting project elected to build all the fences around the places where the trees are going to be before actually inserting the trees. This has necessitated a man in a high-vis jacket having to scramble over the said fences, which are eight feet tall in order to prevent the ingress of the Galloway cattle, sapling in hand, the tree-planter not the cattle, obviously. It has seemed an odd way to arrange a working day, perhaps he is paid by the hour. Also I hope he got out again all right.

I am contemplating my existence in a rather less metaphysical way. Note to self. I do not exactly know what metaphysical means, I should look it up.

I did look it up. The definition said: Relating to metaphysics, which frankly was not terribly helpful.

I am contemplating my future.

This afternoon I went for an exploratory chat at a recruitment drive for a funeral director.

Long-standing readers might recall that this is not my first attempt to break down the glass doors of the funeral industry, and that once, long ago, I was interviewed by an unfriendly old muppet for a job at the Co-op. You might recall that my interview failed spectacularly, because the chap clearly thought I was thoroughly above myself. The crowning moment was when he asked what I would do when I had an irate solicitor on the phone going on about something, I forget what, and I said I would listen and then explain. The interviewer interrupted: Aha. But what would you do if he was on a different intellectual level to you? and I said: Well, I’d explain really slowly and carefully.

This practically got me ejected on the spot.

Anyway, today I discovered that a funeral director in Morecambe was having a recruitment drive and so I went along.

I told Mark about it when he called before I set off, and he said doubtfully: But you’re unemployable. Do you think you’d last any longer than in any other job, by which he meant the Prison Service, at which I lasted the grand total of two and a half days before they sacked me, and the Post Office, in which I lasted three weeks before likewise.

This last was something of a record. Knowing what we all know about the Post Office now I am jolly glad that they did, because part of the reason that I was dismissed was because a thousand pounds had mysteriously gone missing from the total takings. Of course I had nothing to do with it, and couldn’t imagine what had happened because every single person who worked there was painfully honest. The rest of the reason was that I was far too full of myself and told customers things that I only knew, not that the Post Office had taught me, which apparently I wasn’t allowed to do. Anyway, it did not trouble me because the spring had happened by then and it had dawned on me that I did not have the smallest intention of sitting behind a post office counter in the sunshine.

Today I considered matters carefully, and after some frowning and wondering, went to Morecambe.

I had a very lovely talk with the very nice lady, and confessed my long-standing ambition to work in the funeral industry. She said that there was nothing so satisfying, and I agreed wholeheartedly. In fact I liked her very much, and when I came away I thought that it was entirely possible that I would be asked to come back for a real interview in a couple of weeks.

I told Oliver this when I got home, and he raised his eyebrows and said: Why, didn’t anybody else turn up?

I have been feeling almost sick with either excitement or anxiety ever since. It is entirely possible that I might do this. I have had to stop thinking about it because it has given me indigestion.

I might be about to get a job. Imagine that after all these years.

I am going to think about something else