Working 9 to 5

... what a way to make a living. I can't believe it's been three months since I started work again, terrified that the moment I put on that dark suit again, and headed out the door, Herbie would give up the ghost. He's still here, and I'm the one that's fading fast. I'm only on a six-month contract, and it's coming up to the time when you start wondering if it's time to look around again. There is a mega-reshuffle going on at work, so do I stay in the hope that I get a good job in the new structure, or... I like the people here, but there's a new boss due...hmm... decision postponed for a week or two.

I started this blog when I hated my old job, and realised that all I really wanted in life was to be At Home With Herbie. Economically, however, if that home is to be something with walls and a roof, and not a caravan, I can't stay home for ever. ( Though I've been looking at ruins in Portugal, thinking, I could learn Portuguese, and roof-tiling, and plumbing, and...)

Still, if it comes to people putting their brave pants on, I could learn a lesson or two from the latest fund-raising effort at Greyhound Gap - spending a night in the horribly haunted Derby Gaol. If they can face their worst fears, maybe it's time to face mine (not having indoor plumbing or heating for any length of time). There are worse things in life than a composting toilet. (The ones at Aysgarth Falls in the Yorkshire Dales have a warning on one door: Extra Wide Seat - Children May Need Supervision. I guess someone found that out the hard way.)