So far the MASTER plan (pun courtesy of Ryo), which is still in progress mind you, is as follows:
Little Minx is curently ruthlessly job hunting and not being a snob about it (as she'd been before) coz she is prepared to settle for any flee-bitten-jew job that'll pay somthing towards funding the MA. (Except working for NEXT or McDonalds)

Meanwhile I'll face the two final weeks of CELTA, I'll fail that bloody course MY WAY and I'll go down laughing like a maniac! Old Azazil style! (mind you, I wonder if Satan did go down laughing...? ok, joking aside, i dont think i want to wonder, I'm geting cold, sad feelings of devastation)

The current predicament now though is as follows:
Do I do a (strainght) English MA
or
the Shakespeare one
or
a Creative Writing one at Royal Holloway? ...I need advice, nay, direction, offered by a patriarchal/paternal figure. Daddy, as you would have guessed wasn't helpful-
Elest: Dad what should I do?
Dad: ... I donno Sev, what do you want me to say?
Elest: Anything. Say anything!
Dad: I donno Sev, whatever.

So, I've emailed Gordon (and for the last time, people, he's not a flirt! He's my father figure! Right up there along with Sting (and with a dad like mine, it's perfectly normal for me to be collecting father figures, Bill did. (And with two films dedicated to kill off one character, Bill's coolness is indisputable...maybe one day I can be like that: Kill Elest I. Kill Elest II (of course the cold blooded seeker of vengence will be myself- that's the twist. (where the hell was I and how did I get here??)))

And then there is the Dubai thing. 'Figure, once I've MA-applied, and if I find a job out there, I can go off for a bit to work and save in the Arabian gulf...Unless anyone has any objections...?

Ps. iPod front: we are £60 and counting. (yesssss!)
Pps. Gordon just emailed back! Who wants to come see him at the British Lib. with me on Wednesday? (Sarah? Misba?)