A longer gap than I intended, between my last post and this one, and in part caused by performance anxiety. Rather than blethering typographically away to myself, I’ve found that at least one long-distance friend has been regularly reading my outpourings and, what’s worse, enjoying them. Naturally I was both flattered and terrified by this news; how could I possibly continue to live up to his expectations?
Of course now that I’ve prevaricated for so long there’s a feeling that he may have given up, sick of checking the blog for updates and finding I’d been too lazy to write any, but I’m also in the sort of mood where a shrug is a reasonable answer to most things; I am frankly too laid back to care. I now have three whole days (plus the intervening weekend) off work, and even the fact that I’ll be spending them in the middle of Scotland without the aid of central heating isn’t dampening my spirits.
Please don’t imagine that I don’t enjoy my job, because I do, but sitting in front of a computer all day often means that when I come home the last thing I want is to spend a few more hours with a keyboard and an LCD screen, and until I get round to the voice recognition system I keep promising myself (do they understand Yorkshire, anyway?) that means not being in the mood for writing. Today, however, I’ve spent a grand total of ten minutes at a computer, and about eight of them involved e-mail. For reasons we need not concern ourselves with, I have spent the day doing old-fashioned filing, writing colourful labels for suspension files, delving through piles of paperwork teetering around the office and sorting it into place. I’ve been busier than normal, got thoroughly dusty, laddered my tights, and got very little done but I’ve enjoyed myself immensely, and now I feel like I can go away and do some writing. Where did I put my pen?