discombobulated.

Life If I’ve seemed a bit discombobulated lately, it’s because, other than the heat (and where did that come from all of a sudden?), for the first time since 2007 I’m enjoying longer than three weeks away from work. A whole summer in fact. At the risk of offering some clues as to what my current work might be (in contravention of The Rules), I stopped work a week ago and won’t begin again – assuming I haven’t found a different job in the meantime – until September.

Looking at the calender, those three months seems like a very long time indeed. But already my guilt complex is settling in nicely, the psychological condition that suggests that whatever I’m doing, reading a book, watching a film, just well, nothing, I’m wasting my time. I shouldn’t feel this. I'm not a workaholic. I should just be enjoying the gap. In truth even as I type this, I’m wondering about all of the things I could be doing, even though this is the first time I’ve properly talked about myself here, in months, years even.

There are projects. Home painting to be done. I still have a few Hamlets to catch up on. There are the Public Art Collection In North-West England visits to complete, though I do seem to have left the territories on the outer rim to last. A random selection of books that have collected on shelves unread these past few years that I should probably do something about. Other adventures that might crop up in the meantime (financially viable suggestions welcome to the usual sources of communication). I will be busy. Yet, still, three months. And before I know it they’ll be over.