Crashing to Earth
Returning to work is simply the most awful thing in the world.
This morning I was lurched violently awake by Five Live and sent kicking and screaming from holiday peace into the desperate waking nightmare of the office once more. Eleven glorious days off, gone in the blink of an eye.
Of course, the thought of the return to work is twenty times worse than the reality. And the reality is three hundred times better than not having a job or living in a warzone or anything else remotely serious. But still, I walked from the car park to my desk this morning like a condemned man heading towards the hangman’s noose. I discovered, naturally, upon dropping from the metaphorical gallows, that the rope snapped and I landed on some pillows. It wasn’t quite as awful as it could’ve been, but all in all I’d rather not be involved at all.
The return to my desk has not been the only unpleasantness to befall me today. I appear to have got noticeably fatter over the holidays. Not sideways on, belly-wise, like you’d expect. But exclusively in the neck region. This morning, trying to put on a tie became less about sartorial elegance and more like an exercise in self-garrotting. I have been a bit light headed for most of the day because the blood-flow to my head has been restricted. Honestly, it feels quite nice…
Tonight I am also back in the Council swing of things. I am meeting with Lib Dem councillor colleagues to discuss our new year plans and the latest progress on our key issues and projects. Christmas is well and truly over… I just wish someone would take down the tinsel. It just stands there glinting at me like a taunting reminder of joyous times past.
Rick
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