Transcribed

Well, it's official.  Ever since I received my uni results, I've lived in a sort of degree-limbo, in which it looked like I now had a BA but I couldn't actually prove it until nameless officials looked over my academic record and decided whether or not it was wise to let me become a Bachelor of Arts in Professional Writing.  Of course, during this phase I entertained myself with as many doubts as possible, ranging from "What if they don't let me pass because it's almost ten years since I did my first year subjects?" right through the gamut to "What if my application to graduate was stolen by internet demons??"

And once more I proved that all this worrying is going to be bad for my health in the future, because the transcript of officialness arrived on Thursday and it looks like they're going to let me graduate after all.

This is most heartening, as I'm sure you can all imagine.  It might be just a bit of paper with a slightly tacky reflective sticker of officialness, but it means I've finally finished something that's been dogging me for years.  It means I can go on to post graduate study should I wish to do so.  It also means, according to popular belief, that I can now apply for that job at McDonalds that I've been hankering after all this time.  Actually, there's one just down the road from us, so it would really cut down on travelling time.

Now I just have to start panicking that my official bit of graduation paper won't arrive and that they'll call the whole thing off again.

I hereby vow to stop using the word "official" in this post.  I'm getting sick of the sight of it.

In other news, I'm biting my nails to the quick as I watch the progress of Postcards through ye olde magazine slush-pile.  'Tis quite nerve-wracking.  Luckily, I've been able to distract myself with Pickle (of course) and our new toys.  Said toys take the shape of mobile phones and it seemed that all the fates had decided we were to have new ones.  For a start, my Timothy's phone had developed a habit of letting him speak to me for ten seconds before cutting him off mid-sentence.  It made it rather difficult to hold a conversation longer than "Hi!  I..."  It also turned out that our current service provider was merging with its sister company and we were being offered a waiver of our old plan and an upgrade to a new one as part of the deal.  Who could gainsay such signs?  Not us, certainly.  Obedient to the wishes of fate, we went off and picked up our new phones yesterday and have spent the subsequent hours being amazed, bewildered and frustrated by the things.

Ah, the wonders of modern technology.

In further news, Pickle held an impromptu photo shoot the other day and allowed me to take copious pictures of her looking adorable.  (Right now, she's sitting on top of our old VCR and looking defiantly comfortable...)  Here are the results:

( Shy )

( A powerful gaze )

( My favourite )

Now there's a cat who knows she's beautiful.