I’ve been writing this blog for more than a year now, and it occurred to me today that you good folks out there know a lot about the awful shit that’s happened to me over the last several months, but not much more about who I am. Continue reading
On Monday, I was interviewed for an internal post. As you all know, the roles in my team were made redundant earlier this month as part of an organisational re-structure. And as part of that exercise, all of us had to go through the ignominy of re-applying for our posts. Many of my colleagues took the redundancy package instead.
My package is comparatively small, so I opted for re-deployment, and on Monday, found myself sitting before a panel of three, two of whom know me well enough, and I gave an adrenaline-soaked performance that left me shivering and high by the end. Continue reading
I don’t know what it’s like where you are, but here in London, it’s torrid. In the day time, the sun is a fearsome pugilist, pummelling you until you run quivering into the shade. Or, if you’re like me, stuck inside an office all day, it’s more like a bully boy bouncer hulking over you, stilling the movement of air until you spend the rest of the day inhaling and exhaling the same breath.
This is a story in pictures – Rosie’s. They’re all family portraits of sorts, drawn between the ages of 3 and 5, spanning Ben’s descent into the morass of drink and his slow resurrection – his soft return to her.
Rosie’s school sports day. Our great leader David Cameron makes a brief appearance on the school playing fields. He’s there because his government has just released its plans for a new curriculum that will teach fractions and basic computer programming to 5-year-olds… from September 2014. Much as I have a deep dislike for Michael Gove, the human worm and current education secretary, I’m not entirely dismissive of his proposed changes to the national curriculum. I find something reassuring in the focus on maths and science. (I’ve only had the briefest of glances at the proposals, so I may yet change my mind.)
Oh yes, this is also the day when I finally – after two years of waiting – receive notice from my employers. Continue reading
George Eliot writes with such acuity about relationships and character, that it is, at times, cringe making. Every few pages I find some observation that is so piercing, so redolent of my own relationship with Ben, that I feel myself sighing with recognition and wonder. Continue reading