The secret diary of a single parent bloke
Tonight was my first art evening class at college. I know that joining an evening class to make friends is a bit of a cliché, but I’m hoping that this will be an important step in rebuilding my social life. I’m dating Jody, who is wonderful and I already adore, but it’s early days and it’s not the same as having friends.
I’m not hugely convinced that the art course will be what I’m hoping for though.
It’s a huge rush to drive from work, pick up Natalia and Jack, drive home, do dinner, and wait for my Mom to arrive to babysit, so I got there a little late. The classroom was full, and it turns out that all but five are also starting tonight too. I’m not sure whether this means that last year’s class was very undersubscribed, or there’s a high drop-out rate.
Of those five second-year students, three are pensioners (not that I have anything against old people, but as a 30 year old, I’m hardly likely to be going down the bingo with them), one has shut herself in the corner and won’t look at anyone, but the other one seems to be my age and “normal”.
My the mid-session break, one of the new students has already walked out. It doesn’t bode well.