How many unmitigated disasters are there really? Poll tax? Maybe. New Coke? Perhaps. The cream suits worn by Liverpool's 1996 FA cup final team? Definitely.
My interview can now go down in the annals (yes, 2 n's) of history as a genuine unmitigated disaster. I don't want to go into details but I left the feedback session today feeling as if I'd just been hit by the perfect storm of coughing fit and explosive diarrhoea - wherever you stand you are going to get covered.
Needless to say I didn't get it but I always try to see the positives. After hosing myself down I can finally get a good nights' sleep and forget about it; vomiting is no longer my default stomach-state and the palpitations that dictated my breathing have been replaced by weary sighs. Nosebleeds continue.
I was thinking about drawing on some of the great literary and philosophical minds to console me. Surely Wilfred Owen has something from his war experience that can help. Shakespeare dealt with rejection on an act by act basis. Maybe Plato's Laches can offer me some perspective of true courage and nobility.
No. Right now the only sources I want to consult are the later films of Eddie Murphy. Just to remind me I used to be good and it all went wrong ending up with me sleeping with a Spice Girl (we've all done it).
It is good to have moments like this, when the wounds are still exposed and very raw. Maybe in a day or two I'll remember why.
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