I have a job interview tomorrow in Belfast. I have ironed my white shirt, and shined my shoes, for tomorrow. Fortunately, tomorrow’s interview is in the afternoon. So I can tie some loose ends in the morning.
Tomorrow is also the last day before a fortnight of a severe Lockdown in Northern Ireland. I feel like Number Six from ‘The Prisoner’ at times, recently. And Belfast normally resembles ‘Dawn of the Dead’ at this time of the year. Imagine tomorrow.
Even as a Christian, I can have a misanthropic streak inside me. Dealing with others, in the Cattle Market of life, can be a forced exercise.
Today, I passed an old man cycling on a B Road, heading home from Portadown, and only God’s grace kept me safe. Now, I’m trying to relax. Stinking Thinking has me in a tizzy whenever I make a mistake.
I had an interview on Zoom last Thursday. No joy, but I requested feedback.
The Derry and Strabane District is subject to a localised Lockdown, now. I must be grateful that my brother’s home. My plan was to relocate to the Donemana/Aughabrack/Glenmornan/Artigarvan area. But God hit me with a two-by-four on that.