Recovery

I am in a shiny, new building, looking out over trees and ponds rather than the brown-fields of a recently-demolished ordnance factory as before. Of course this is all you are going to get by way of identification other than the fact that my drive is less than half what it was, which has gone a long way to helping my sanity. In my line of work, it is completely possible to do everything from home and I do so envy all those computer consultants who have broadband installed in some croft on the Outer Hebrides and save the world remotely. However, as John Cleese told me all those years ago when I started work, the meeting is still an important part of business and this means that travel is always a necessity. I’m thinking of having the garage converted to be a technology hub which will mean I can stay at home for the rest of my life but that may well be an unachievable dream. We see all those nice shiny office suites in the Sunday Supps but the reality of home life is one of clutter unless you have managed to convince the kids to be totally silent by pretending to be some sort of B-Movie monster if they so much as squeak.

There is a column in the “Family” section of the Saturday Guardian, which I think is called Living with teenagers. These particular 13-19-year olds seem to have a troopers vocabulary which is making me fear for the future somewhat though I suppose a few swear words should come way down the list of things to worry about when it comes to offspring. However, I don’t think I would be putting up with it. Maybe it is just the standard lax and liberal nature of whichever Guardianista writes it.

All of this is to prove correct, the colleagues of mine who assert that I am less depressed when I am ranting. Trying to be calm and not shout about the problems I see around me, leaves me internalising everything which is of course no good at all. I should go the gym I suppose or at least swimming which might help me become as physically tired as I am mentally. Much problem sleeping recently and that has become the only worry - a circle of the highest possible order of viciousness there. I am also trying not to read anything particularly exciting or nasty though I seem to have failed there by managing to finish Dead Air by Iain Banks which was a lot better than his previous book – The Business. Bloom County seems to be my limit at the moment, though the politics is very dated.