I found out on Saturday that I'm no longer wanted to pencil Jane Eyre. The pencils I sent him that 'would take some beating' (as said in the original email) are now not good enough. Oh well.
I'm glad I didn't hand in my notice, and I regret telling everyone I'd got the gig in the first place, as these things have a habit of turning round and biting me on the arse. It is a bit crap to tell someone they've got a job (and be really enthusiastic about it) and then pull the rug out a fortnight later.
Now I've had a couple of days to think about it, I don't think Jane Eyre was really 'me', and I probably wouldn't have done it justice. I've got a few other irons in the fire. To be seriously considered for the job in the first place was a step forward for me. It was nice while it lasted.
Anyway, I drowned my sorrows with Herculean amounts of alcohol on Saturday, when I met up with some old schoolfriends of mine, and had a great time. Later on, after most of our original party had gone home, some other people (unconnected with our party and quite coincidentally)I went to school with turned up. They've all gone over to the Dark Side (they're all teachers) and they've all got no hair. It seems, in the sixteen years since I last saw these blokes, I've aged the least. But it's swings and roundabouts, as I've probably gained the most weight.