Sitting at the station waitng form my bus. In the background loud cries from graduating students on trucks echoes in the hall, making the waitinghall appear still and silent.
Entering the bus, I know that I have lots of work to do, preparing for my perfomance as a toastmaster tomorrow. I will have to think and write and contact my fellow toastmaster this evening.
It is only an hour and a quarter, but I haven't had the proper time to plan and practise our program. In fact, the program is not ready at all - only a rough outline. Still, I'm not nervouse, which make me nervouse! Somehow I know there will be something turning up.
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