Ticker tape

When I stood on the threshold of a new year twelve months ago, there were two sets of personal ticker tape uncoiling from me in opposite directions. One of them was written in indelible ink and attached at the other end to an anchor, way out of sight and in the past; the other was fresh and blank and streamed freely and unfettered into the future.

The first – the backwards flowing one - was historical; my recent past. On that tape were a series of words and images of events, in particular those that had happened in the previous year or so up to that point. Among them: the writing and publication of my first book; the death of my grandmother; Rhona sitting and passing her A levels; and my break-up with D and the impacts of that, still very fresh and active at that time.

The other ticker tape was the one marked the future. It had no words on it at that point, but a few vaguely conceived ideas had started to make an impression; certainly, if I had started writing my resolution pages then they would have read very differently from now. Among those concepts or ideas that were yet to pass from being a vague impression to being written in bold black Biro was the topic of work.

I had been self-employed for more than two years and had taken to the freelance life like the proverbial duck to water. Of the many welcome attributes of working for myself, I’d especially found the constant changes of tasks and clients was the solution to heading off the inevitable boredom that always settled on me after a time in any regular job. Yes, being self-employed had served me well indeed – until the after-effects of the break-up zapped my concentration, and my motivation (and bank balance) dwindled to beyond a vanishing point.

And so it was that in the first few months of last year I started the gradual process of trying to get my emotional and practical house back in order – a significant outcome of which was the decision to go out and look for a regular job again. I recognised that the structure of the work-a-day 9 to 5 could bring some much-needed stability to my finances as well an inkling of motivation, and that having colleagues around would fill the day with welcome interaction, conversation and light relief. If it’s a big move to go from employment to self-employment, reversing that process was more significant still. But I was absolutely delighted when I was offered a job in the late summer of last year and quickly settled into a small but lovely team.

Sadly, it wasn’t to last. The two direct colleagues with whom I share an office were told of their redundancy in early December. Mine came on Monday. It was not entirely unexpected. The three of us will remain in our positions until the end of March so we have a couple of months to look for something else. I’m sure something will turn up and feel very positive about it all. But what a pain in the butt all the same!

On a lighter note, arrived home from another a second consecutive day in Croydon to find a large A4 envelope wedged into the letter box. It took me a good five minutes of slightly bad tempered end-of-a-long-day-this-is-the-last-thing-I-can-do-with wrestling and joggling the flap-down lid around to release it. It was my membership pack from the British Wheel of Yoga. The irony was not lost.