PHLEGM FLAMMERY
No giblets, no chicken soup. I could really do with some hot, steamy broth right now. But I haven't got any. It's too cold to nip down to the supermarket. And Tracy has run out of bones.
As it happens, I am feeling better than yesterday, largely thanks to a cocktail of painkillers and decongestants that puts me almost on a par with my pa's pill-popping. If they fail to do the trick, I can always cash in the antibiotic prescription the doctor gave me yesterday.
The night, however, is not looking promising. In two hours, I head to work. And at 3am I head to Birmingham for the morning. I won't be back here till gone 10.30, no doubt spluttering like a Paddington Station tramp.
It would be nice, one day, to fill these pages with joy, tales of my daring-do achievements and the odd bit of happiness. But when your days are taken up with Olympic Curling and coughing, and your nights are spent doing work worthy of a 16-year old school-leaver, then it's hard to feel inspired.
My one hope right now is an internal job I've applied for. It's high-profile, challenging and might just make me feel like somebody - myself perhaps - again. If I don't get it, then it might well be time to shake off the shackles of a staff job at a big firm and let my lance swing free once more.
No giblets, no chicken soup. I could really do with some hot, steamy broth right now. But I haven't got any. It's too cold to nip down to the supermarket. And Tracy has run out of bones.
As it happens, I am feeling better than yesterday, largely thanks to a cocktail of painkillers and decongestants that puts me almost on a par with my pa's pill-popping. If they fail to do the trick, I can always cash in the antibiotic prescription the doctor gave me yesterday.
The night, however, is not looking promising. In two hours, I head to work. And at 3am I head to Birmingham for the morning. I won't be back here till gone 10.30, no doubt spluttering like a Paddington Station tramp.
It would be nice, one day, to fill these pages with joy, tales of my daring-do achievements and the odd bit of happiness. But when your days are taken up with Olympic Curling and coughing, and your nights are spent doing work worthy of a 16-year old school-leaver, then it's hard to feel inspired.
My one hope right now is an internal job I've applied for. It's high-profile, challenging and might just make me feel like somebody - myself perhaps - again. If I don't get it, then it might well be time to shake off the shackles of a staff job at a big firm and let my lance swing free once more.
posted by David Cohen at 7:06 pm
1 Comments:
Good luck on the internal job. I hope you get it! I'm crossing my fingers...
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