Back in the saddle

Oof. It’s been a while.

Last time I posted I was gainfully employed (albeit, on my way out), I was just about to leave for Africa, and I was in a little confusion about the state of my relationship-that-isn’t-really-a-relationship-because-I’m-going-to-Africa-and-I-don’t-know-what-I-want thing.

It’s been a while.

What’s changed?


Having moved on from Big Corporation, I now have a new boss. She can be a bit moody and sometimes she just doesn’t seem to know what she’s doing. So far, I haven’t even been paid! (and yes, this is a stupid way of saying I’m now self-employed)

Joking aside, I’m rather enjoying the ability to make my own decisions, the discipline of having to stick to a meagre budget, the freedom of being able to meet friends for lunch or coffee, the pride of Getting Things Done.


I went to Africa. I survived Africa. I had my once-in-a-lifetime experience that I never have to repeat. I met some amazing people. I met some not-so-amazing people. I did things I never thought I would ever in a million years do even if you paid me (and, in fact, paid to do it)*. It was an experience. It was nothing like I thought it would be. I’m glad I did it. I needed to do it. I won’t do it again.

And my God, I’m so glad to be home again.


So that guy? Yeah, I’m still with him. Despite the fact we both decided that we weren’t going to wait for each other while I was away we… did. And yes, it was odd, seeing him again after 4 months apart. And yes, it was a little awkward at first. But that was at first.

He continually surprises me with his thoughtfulness and kindness, his ability to take situations in his stride that would have me completely freaking out, his relaxed attitude to everything I deign to throw at him (be it a day out with Fursty Ferret to a couple of days with the parents – yes, that happened).

We’re taking it as it comes, I think. Seeing what happens. Enjoying each other’s company and all those other cliches. Let’s see what happens.

And so there you have it. My updated life in fewer than 500 words. Much like I’m targeting 5 meetings a week for work, I should try and give myself a blogging target. After all, this blog is the only place I get to rant to my heart’s content in relative anonymity.

I’m on the case. I’m getting back in the saddle.

* for the very curious, I went skydiving in Namibia. I’m not sure why I said yes. It was absolutely petrifying. The poor chap I was strapped to was completely deaf by the time he got me on the ground. 


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You’ve heard of being hangry, haven’t you? That devilish occurrence of hunger making you angry and irritable?

Well I’m FRangry. Frustrated and angry.

“Why?” you ask. Hang on to your hats, dear readers, and I will explain (read: rant)

I have 12 days left in this job. 12 days before I get to walk out of this behemoth of an office and not have to come back unless it’s under my own terms. (For the avoidance of doubt, my own terms include lunch with former colleagues, in my capacity as a consultant, or to do photocopying – ok, maybe not the last one). 12 days.

Bearing that in mind, you’d think that my current emotions would be oscillating between ecstatic and oh-my-god thrilled.

Not the case.

I’m bored, angry, frustrated, jaded, cynical, bitchy, depressed. I have nothing to do, and no desire to find myself work to do (12 days people!) and so I sit here day in, day out, getting bored. Boredom leads to anger and frustration. Why wouldn’t someone give me some work to do! Do I have to put up with 12 days of this? This, in turn, leads to cynicism and a jaded outlook on my colleagues and the work I’ve spent the last 8 years doing. Well obviously they’re not giving me anything to do. I only have 12 days left here. It’s not like they need to get me to do a handover or anything, they don’t think the job I’ve been doing needs one. But maybe I should do a handover anyway? Naaa, why bother, they won’t use it. It’ll just sit somewhere, gathering metaphorical dust.

This attitude leads me to bitchiness. I pick at everything around me. I refuse to be enthusiastic about projects, about my colleague’s work. I sit, sulking at my desk. And that leads me feel depressed. I berate myself constantly for not being me. For not knuckling down and getting on with things. For  being so lazy. For slacking off. For not.

And it’s a perpetual spiral of frangriness.

And I’m fed up of it.

12 more days.



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