Yay! What a fantastic day.
Earlier this week (I left it rather late because I've been busy and not reading my FTI newsletters), I applied to attend a narrative comedy writing workshop taught by Tim Ferguson.
Mind you, the only recollection I have of those episodes are a Japanese mermaid in a wading pool and the phrase "Shitsu Tonka".
Old age is funny like that.
Still, TIM FERGUSON.
Anyway, I got an e-mail back saying they were full, accepted it, and moved on.
Then this morning the organiser called me, saying that someone had cancelled, and he had read my application and was very impressed, and would I still like to attend the course despite the short notice?
Then I went to my mother's for lunch and she had bought this book for me:
The blurb on the back says, "Inspired by a course run by the National College of Ireland, [this book] comprises 20 letters from Maeve, offering advice, tips and her own wonderfully witty take on the life of a writer, in addition to contributions from top writers, publishers and editors."
This is a pretty special gift because it means my mother has accepted that I'm pursuing this crazy dream (and is no longer pushing me to be/marry a doctor/dentist/accountant/lawyer).
And as everyone knows, when you've got your Mummy behind you, you can pretty much conquer the world.
I suppose the universe agrees, because a catalogue with this message arrived in the mail this afternoon:
I know it's just a catalogue, but I'll take good portents wherever I can get them, thank you very much.