Wildewire

I suppose you might call it "Post Vacation Inertia" but it has been a bit of struggle getting back into a rhythm of even thinking about work. Not having a job to go to is part of it though my first action this last week was to submit an application for a job I had taken with me on holiday and looked at once, for ten minutes. At least I got it submitted by the deadline, but as they've not got back to me, perhaps it wasn't my best work as I haven't heard back from them. In all honesty; I wasn't excited by the job which isn't a good sign, I just know I could do it. It is increasingly true that job descriptions are getting bigger as the salaries offered diminish, I'm sure this job would have offered at least five to eight thousand pounds more a couple of years ago. The first day back was a glorious spring day, since then, this corner of the country has been clouded in gloom while most of the rest has been basking in sun. I did have a meeting with one

I'm a little worried about getting used to this holiday lark. Here I am in Menton with my old friend and father of my god daughter. He's concierge of an apartment building 200m from the beach and I've got a flat to myself which is cool. When I first came here, my friend was single, footloose and fancy-free, now he is a dad whose wife works six days a week so on top of his concierge duties he hardly gets a spare moment- not that he doesn't love it! I usually get 'antsy' sitting about doing nothing, but its as if the recent tensions in my life are just seeping out of me as I troll around the town or just sit about catching the rays. Not that my recent troubles haven't been completely forgotten: I deleted all files relating to the failed experiment of my time in Blyth from my laptop, but had forgotten that I'd copied them to my tablet, I found myself re-reading the job description at a bar earlier and burst out laughing- clearly people will say anything

I noticed "something odd" about the way my right hand was working a few days before I found myself en route for a Saturday night shift at work and my hand just wouldn't work properly. I hid it for the most part but was  worried about it. It didn't go away like it did the first time and persisted through Sunday. I decided to go to the doctor the following day despite the fact the symptoms had passed. I also noticed a recurrence of a cyst under my left nipple that had been an issue a couple of years ago, before I was dismissed by the hospital ALMOST as if I was wasting their time- sitting in the Breast Clinic amongst all those worried women was not an experience I was keen to repeat! I was called to the hospital a couple of days later: having two such episodes in a week turns out to be a serious matter. I expected to be in and out in an hour or so, in the event: I arrived at 10:00 and left at 17:45. I had no alternative but to inform my masters especially as I had t

I'd received a one line instruction to attend a meeting to discuss how my probationary period was progressing. I was pleased that at last, with two months to go to the end of the probation, my bosses were finally finding time to TALK with me about what they want me to do. It had become increasingly clear -at least to me, that the Job I was being asked to do was not the same as what had been advertised in the Job Description. A couple of years earlier, I am sure I would have stamped my feet and banged on tables, but a mid-recession realisation that having a job in the sector for which I was trained and where I have experience is not to be discarded lightly, so I resolved to adapt. Adapting had been proving more difficult than I had anticipated, as I soon found duties like flushing beer lines and stocking coolers before bar sessions added to my workload. But that wasn't the worst of it: my masters never involved me in their discussions but would make decisions and issue me wi