Diary of a Journalism Post-Grad, Chapter 13

Hallelujah! I am a bona fide shorthandist (if that exists…). I passed my 100 words-a-minute on Wednesday. Quite unexpected, as I had a tiny bit of a hangover, but the squiggles just seemed to flow off the end of the pen. No more early morning Teeline for me, though I think I might try and go to a couple a week still so I don’t lose the knack. Our teacher is invaluable and I’ve realised I won’t have her around to hold my hand for much longer.

Had one of the few one-to-one tutorials that we get each term this week. A general catch-up and discussion of lessons learnt from Christmas work experience. He asked me what my plans were for after the course. I said I hadn’t made any firm decisions yet, which seemed okay by him (“It’s good to keep your options open,” he encouraged), but then he looked lost for words.

Perhaps if I go back in a couple of weeks with a more definite idea he’ll perk up. February is fast disappearing, so I’m going to sort out Easter’s work experience next week. We’ve got some folk from the Press Association and The Sunday Times coming in next week, so maybe something will come of that. All of a sudden, the graduate scheme ads are appearing in the papers.
Filling out application forms in February seems to be becoming an annual event.

Celebrated Valentine’s Day in unusual fashion with 15 of my course mates in a curry house on Brick Lane. Some tenacious haggling and the bill only came to