Had a rather early start this morning to make a 7.50 appointment for blood tests. They’re being thorough; several phials of my essence are now whizzing off to be tested for vitamin D3, vitamin B12, coeliac, immunoglobulin and something else relating to the liver. So we wait to see if I have any or all of these problems. I can’t fault the staff at the surgery – they’re unfailingly pleasant and helpful when you get through to them. The problem is getting through. Anyway, here’s hoping something will come of this lot because I’m really sick of being tired all the time. On the way back I bought some mini-ciabattas and Abergavenny goat’s cheese for breakfast, but what I really wanted was to be in France, to have gone out for a walk and come back via a small patisserie where I could get some croissants and pain au chocolat.
The lack of a holiday is starting to get to me. It’s been nearly two years since I had a proper break and I realise I’m not alone in this regard but there’s no real prospect of getting away this summer either, and that’s starting to depress me. I would love to have a week by the sea somewhere quiet, just to walk and swim and cycle and read and chill out – it’d be great. But the best I’m likely to do is a weekend in Wales and some days out on the bike. Oh well, better than nothing I suppose.
I sent off another short story yesterday and I’m preparing another to send soon. It’s all about keeping the momentum going; I found this when I was unemployed in the ’80s and applying for jobs – it’s much better just to keep applying without worrying too much about the outcome. So as soon as a story comes back, I’ll send it somewhere else and, just as I did eventually get a job, so I will get more stuff published. I made a list of publications yesterday as I keep forgetting, and it’s more than I thought. Did no-one read Mem Mat yesterday? I didn’t get any comments on it.
Mind you, the job I eventually did get was problematic. I’d been going to a Job Club – these could either be good or useless depending on who was running them and fortunately this one was run by a pair who knew what they were doing. They encouraged me to apply for a job with an arts organisation; the post was for a manager and even though I didn’t have management experience they thought my teaching skills would come in useful. What they didn’t tell me was that the guy running the Job Club had also worked there and had the most awful time with the other manager. I don’t totally blame them for not telling me about this guy, who I shall call Kevin, but he turned out to be worse than David Brent. He was incompetent, devious and manipulative and he drove me round the bend. I ended up making a complaint to his manager and after that he went around with a wounded expression as if he couldn’t quite believe I’d done that to him. Anyone who’s ever worked in a toxic environment will know how demoralising and debilitating that is. But as it was still the 80’s and I was in a management position I was earning a good salary, even if the job was a bit like this one in Black Books:
Anyway, it paid for a holiday in Spain which eventually led to me living there. So that was all good.
Enjoy your day.