Tomorrow I have an assessment day with a London law firm. It’s the third and final hoop of assessment to jump through; although I applied to several firms, this is the only one with which I’ve got this far.

If I get the place, it guarantees me funding for two years of law school, two further years as a trainee at the firm, and, barring screwups, substantial likelihood of a subsequent job in one of the last remaining sectors where “job security” is a legitimate concept rather than a bitter joke. If I don’t, my future is in some doubt; no worse off than most of the rest of my generation, really, but rudderless and with personal debt that invites vice-like metaphors.

I’m already basically resigned to not getting it. To call the odds against me horrific is to powerfully understate the size of the mountain of corpses you need to scale for a training contract.

Wish me luck.

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