Tremulous Trepidation.

Greetings, gentle readers.
The past week has been a turbulent one, with my previous life issuing forth vaporous apparitions of memory from whatever shallow grave it was unceremoniously dumped all those years ago. I had thought that most of the residual traces of my life prior to my sojourns to Africa and Europe had vanished. Apparently not. The cascade of madness down memory lane began a week ago, when the latest batch of trainees were released onto the floor of my office.
As the newly initiated milled about the floor, navigating the labyrinthine conglomeration of cubicles and corridors, one lass caught my eye. And held it. The fabric of the universe stretched very thin for a moment as two simultaneous cartoon thought balloons manifested just below the flickering flourescent lights - "I know that person from somewhere..."
It took a couple of days and a few blind alleys before it struck me. I was a student teacher in 1998, and Sarah was a grade 10 pupil. Having opened that can of worms, all sorts of associations and recollections came flooding back. Having discovered one former student, I found myself asking more and more questions. Whatever became of those children in the intervening seven or eight years since I stood before them in a classroom? Charlett and Marcus from St. Rose Junior High, Carly and Jamie from St. Francis Xavier High School. Does anyone still remember me? Did I make an impact on someone's life? Now that they're all adults, what do they recall of the goofy and awkward English teacher that waltzed in and out of their classroom for a couple of months? Answers on a postcard, please.
Meanwhile, Liverpool have tragically stumbled again, losing the League Cup Final to Chelski in extra time. No FA Cup, no League Cup, and with only fourth place in the League to play for, the Champions' League is the last remaining chance for silverware. The lack of trophies is particularly worrisome when considering the fate of young Stevie G, who was unlucky enough to be the poor blighter who scored an own goal, thus allowing Chelski to come into the game and punish Liverpudlian profligacy with two late strikes to bury the Reds' chances. And if there is a serious dearth of glory at the close of the season, speculation about a high-profile move for the young captain will dominate the back pages of all the newspapers. If Stevie wants to go, there will not be any shortage of interested parties with shedloads of swag. The ever-voracious Madrilenos will be waving their millions, while the blue Londoners have the Abramovich fortunes to fuel their bid.
And my TELUS stock matures this week, while stock prices are soaring. Hopefully this translates into a hefty whack of cash so that my forthcoming road trip to Calgary can be filled with over-indulgence and decadence. Looking forward to hitting the old Cow-town stomping grounds and catching up with people I haven't seen in over a year and a half.
Will be back at a later time with more news and updates from the world as I know it. Must also try and get back to working on my novel, since the things has been stalled out for months now. So until next time, good night England and the colonies. Cheers,

-mARKUS
^+Justice for the 96+^
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