Yesterday was the dreaded first day back in the office from the festive break. As predicted the thought of it was worse than the reality. You can’t make a living from drinking tea, reading books, watching telly and when it absolutely can’t be avoided, walking the dog in the rain. Not unless you’re one of those fly bastards that outsources their day to day work to some PHD Graduate in Indonesia for a twentieth of their own salary.
I noticed my work clothes were a little bit snug to my festive plumpness when I was getting ready. Not a surprise I suppose. Zero activity + mucho sweeties + crisps n dips + cheese + a few fry ups + other assorted junk food + a little drinky or two = me filling out a bit. That’ll get sorted though. I’ve had a couple of runs so far, and half assed it through a game of fives last night. So that’s a start.
Back to the office. There were essentially two stories that came back from everyone 1) like me, very lazy. Long lies, with lots of food and drink and 2) Oh we never stopped with all the visiting. This is “rookie Christmassing” as far as I’m concerned. A full diary at Christmas time is to be avoided like the turkish delight left in the Thorntons chocolate box.
OK day 2. Here we go. Let’s do this.
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