Robespierre. It's his fault I have to write an essay. |
Occasionally, to put off doing the essay, I've been looking at possible job options. I graduate in two months' time; real-life is creeping steadily closer. My career ideas, however, have been getting increasingly far-fetched and ridiculous. In the past couple of months, I have considered the following:
- Astronaut
- Crocodile sanctuary-man
- Café owner in South America
- Farmer (ploughing looks fun)
- Author
- Postman (of a new, yet-to-be-made Royal Mail competitor)
- Fighter pilot (but not a killing one. A friendly one)
- Lock-keeper
On another, completely-unrelated note, there was a nice sunset over Reading a couple of days ago. One that deserved being photographed, I reckoned. Here it is:
Reading at sunset (massive amounts of crime not pictured). |
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I love that photo. Who would've thought that was Reading?
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