It was bad enough having to return to the old regime of the early morning trail around the streets in the winter dark – The Fatdog in tow; but even worse, today it was back to work for yours truly. The Christmas holiday had been well and truly buggered up by my wee flu-like germ and now it was back to the daily grind, with me still coughing its remains out of my system.
As I sat at my desk, cup of tea in hand, staring blankly at the computer screen I realised the day wasn’t going to get much better…dentist at 3.30 followed by a shopping trip to Asda. I could hardly contain my joy.
It appeared that I’d had a fairly decent holiday period compared to others at work; one in hospital with a stroke and others, worse than myself, sounding one step from the netherworld. The attrition rate of elderly relatives had been far higher than the seasonal norm with local crematoriums suffering lengthy backlogs thus adding to the general misery. Then there were friends of colleagues families who had departed this earth or were diagnosed for imminent departure. I don’t recall a return to work quite like it.
I checked my wrist for a pulse…just to make sure. 😉