Cos I'm leaving on a jetplane
Don't know when I'll be back again
That's right wee lads and lasses, I had a dream, a dream interrupted by a phone ring and thick Scottish accent. The accent said nothing of course, but the voice, well the voice said much including the phrase "offer you a place in September", which sounded more like "Septembah" with the last syllable getting the higher pitch as if it were a question. So now, I begin the short process of visa application and booking a plane ticket.
I just have to wait until my letter arrives next week. And then I have to send home for copies of my passport, certified ones, that is. Where I get those I have no clue. But dammit if I'm not going to apply for a 5 year visa. Mmmm, Scotland, I imagine it tastes kinda like haggis, which I suppose I can get used to. I mean I got used to this city and its funky-ass smell.