So far, so good

We’re staying in a little B&B not too far from my new flat, but before we checked in we drove by and looked at my flat from the outside. The area seems okay. There’s a Co-Op down the road, and the street is fairly clean.
 
Now Dad’s snoring away in the room. I could hardly hear the telly, so I’ve come down the common room to use the wireless and get away from the monstrous sound that Dad’s nose is emitting. I’m getting excited, and I’m feeling much better than I have been. In fact, I think the reason I feel so good is because Dad and I had a really good chat on the way up.

He said that he’s proud of me. Yeah, he actually said that. I was dumb struck. With all the complaining and being a total dickhead about the move, I had no idea that he was even happy with my decision, let alone proud.
 
He said that a lot of students can’t find any work after University, let alone something in their field, and he thinks that because I’ve worked hard and made sacrifices (the internship) that I deserve this job. I’m well chuffed he thinks this; although, to be honest, I mostly got this job out of luck, and I’m still terrified that they’re going to figure out that I have no idea what I’m doing. In fact, I can’t believe they hired me. Why didn’t they find someone with more experience? Or someone who had interned with them? Maybe I’m just cheep labour (my salary is pretty low), or maybe no one else would do the job? What if I’m getting myself into another MNM situation, where it’s a bunch of morons who landed themselves a position of authority…
 
I was on such a high, and I’m bringing myself down. Instead, I’ll talk about the drive up to Dundee.
 
We went up the West Coast, and over the Penines, and over near to Glasgow and then Perth. It’s pretty much the same route I took on the Virgin train when I left Glasgow heading back down South (not the Perth part), but it’s still pretty all the same. We listened to a lot of Radio 4, and a bit of Dad’s music. You see, my father is actually kind of young, but he has the worst taste in music. First, his car has a tape and a CD player. It’s not an old car, but he had one installed so he could listen to his cassettes and his CDs. I tried to explain that he just needs to download them to his phone, and then play them through Bluetooth. But he wouldn’t listen.
 
The travelling noise that he chose for the drive:
Kenny Rogers
Willie Nelson
Dolly Parton
Johnny Cash
The Grateful Dead
 
I nearly threw the Grateful Dead out the window. It’s just a bunch of people playing instruments to different tunes. I begged him to please find something decent, and he said that this was the perfect road trip music. I was more than happy to put it back on Radio 4.
 
Dundee’s quite small. We came in from one side, and we went up a kind of hill and coule practically see to the other side. So, unlike moving to Glasgow, I should have no problem finding my way around. And Dundee was so cold. Like my face hurt cold. But I am even farther north than even Glasgow, so I expected nothing less.
 
After checking into the B&B, we walked down to a main street, and had dinner at this cute little Italian restaurant. Dad told everyone in the Restaurant (in fairness, there was only one other table and a waitress) that I was coming to Dundee to work for a big name publishers. I tried to correct him, but he had none of it. I think he was purposefully trying to embarrass me. I spotted a few cafes in the area that I wouldn’t mind making my normal haunt, and I’ve pre-Google Mapped directions from my flat to work, and it looks like an easy walk.
 
But, yeah, I guess…so far so good.

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