The title is as far as I am going to stretch as concerns talking about the weather. It's winter, and this is what happens in winter. Full stop.
Yesterday, my friend had to visit The University so I tagged along and thought I would take my recently (somewhat) improved CV to the graduate careers advice centre, as they offer a guidance service and help you make it all better and probably give you a cup of tea and a biscuit at the end. Nope.
I looked across the waiting area of forlorn-looking students and graduates milling about in ironic knitwear. It looked pretty busy. They were fully booked up, the buck-toothed but pleasant delta kindly informed me. Oh well.
I took what remained of my love for humanity and my mittens off as I went into the warmth of my very own building; the structure that had been my educational home for four years. Surely now I was in there, I could find someone to help. My tutor I needed to contact wasn't there - quelle fucking surprise - but one of the slightly less useless and considerably more friendly ones was there to helpfully point out that my CV was grammatically correct (yeah, CHEERS) and either one or two pages is fine - or isn't - or is. Thanks, as they say, for nowt.