I have signed up for evening classes at Queen’s university in genre fiction writing. Once a week for ten weeks I will meet like-minded people who enjoy creating something with words.
It shouldn’t distract me from my distance learning philosophy course (according to my timetable). I haven’t done evening classes for a long time, that was a disastrous foray into the egoism of a watercolour artist. First he questioned whether I should be in his class at all, had I even paid, I wasn’t on his list, was there any point joining his classes this late? I did pick up some tips with the use of sponges, but he was so obnoxious I dropped out.
When I was about 19 I took A level German evening classes. The regular German students had already been allowed to select the books. We ended up with Urfaust by Goethe printed in Gothic script. The classes started about an hour after I finished work which saw me drinking in BP’s subsidised bar before heading across the road to grapple with Gothic script and Faust. On one occasion I fell asleep in the classroom and they turned out the lights at the end of class and left me to it.
odespinner 