On the tube a man wearing baggy dirty grey jogging bottoms scratches his crotch then appears to smell his hand. I try not to look too disgusted.
I forget about giving up smoking and buy a packet of cigarettes. Smoke one as I cross Putney Bridge. Turn left as instructed but notice the house numbers decreasing. Go right and find the building. Try to make a coffee but all the mugs are gone.
Create a production line making notepads from old newspapers, manage a best of 3 1/2. Are shocked to discover the VSO team made 10. Decide my interviewer isn’t quite as scary as he looks. Am slightly worried he thinks I’m alcoholic after sharing my insights on boxes of cheap wine. End the day by saying that apart from drinking more coffee I wouldn’t change anything as I had just been myself and that is all I could do. Can tell the people who are a little nervous and saying what they think they should. But think they are all lovely people and all deserve a place.
Smoke another cigarette crossing Putney Bridge. Stop to take a photograph on my phone of the Thames by night.
Train again. Packed like sardines, resent the business men with seats. There’s the man reading GQ. The man with a big wart in the middle of his bald patch and the man who gets on at Cambridge reading what I suppose to be a dissertation.
p.s. Got an e-mail today telling me I’ve been accepted! Go me