Prospects

Dear Diary,

Were I not pious, honest, hardworking, erudite and a Christian, I would be far better off. In real-terms. Okay, sure, my soul would be in the hazard and I might well be re-incarnated as some sort of awful brutish beast, but, at least while on (hell on) earth, I would be much better off. Consider this. A guy I know does gigs, he is on a retainer of £800/month from one bar, he has three other residencies, he doesn't work, he admitted doing a degree with the OU "just because they gave me money to do it", he said, and he also claims mEnTaL benefit. He is as bad as any number of drug dealers I have known. They all have plenty of money, rent paid, Council Tax paid, no need to work, and are far better off, than an honest scholar who works. This, is the truth.

Last Saturday I played for three and a half hours, and they gave me twenty quid. This is better than the fiver I am used to being exploited for.

In France, the going rate is £200-250 per gig. Here, I work my ass off for some really very Dickensian heartless people, gig for hours and hours on end, and at the end of it all, am in debt, with a Liability Order hanging over me, and nearly no hope.

For the last week I have been the lowest (in spirit) I have ever been in my life, by far (and I've been in some pretty taxing situations, let me tell you!). This is because even before the conception of the OU Classics Society, I am banned, without a word, even before the word "go". This is the same as the blogging ban. One guy I know swears like nobody, rails against the Establishment, and gets barred for what? Twelve hours? Try twelve months! Or sixteen! There, is no justice, and instead of being proud to belong to such an excellent institution of Higher Education, I am ashamed to bear the Royal coat of arms on my jumper, or the name across my chest. If the OU have banned me from blogging, and even before it is born - banned me from the Classical Studies Society, then what chance do I have of ever getting a job (that does not involve washing up) with them? Zero. That's how much.

So? What do I do? Well. As I walked beneath an azured sky this evening, as the sun kissed the green verdant hilltops in the misty distance, peppered with trees, I noticed a single star, shining in the night sky. After about two minutes, another one joined, twinkling all the colours of Alexandrite. This symbolised my hope. It is but a mustard seed. There is one institution in the country which seems to have taken an interest in yours truly. I am not going to mention where, but let's just say they are among the top five in the world. I cling to this frail notion of (likely idealised and wishful) hope. It might just be, that one day, if I work hard enough, study hard enough, pray hard enough, that I might, just make something of myself, and not just simply be confined to unskilled labour, and a life of poverty, as I have been, my entire life.