After yesterdays moving house blues where the people in charge and “guiding” us through (as they make us believe) this fucking labyrinth of paperwork and PDFs, certification proving we have this and we comply to that, without really giving a shit, as all we want to do is move from here and get to there, and as quickly as possible. I’m upset that I have to pay these fuckers so much money for the privilege of having to call them up every day to ask them where this or that is. It seems they have a franchise over the perpetual worry etched over my brow. The line on my forehead deepens and yesterday I nearly cried, in exasperation at the wretchedness of it all. Roll on Friday (next week) where we will be able to sit in our incomplete, but warm house.
At work today I received a call to tell me that a colleague, who recently moved to Scotland, keeping his job, had died. But it turns out he took his own life. The shy but totally competent and experienced chap, who worked as a mountain rescue volunteer decided for what ever reason that he could no longer continue. And that has made me realise that my day wasn’t half as bad.