Discussing things relating to my employers just
depresses, angers and demoralises me, so that particular topic is off-limits
for a while. So instead I shall write about something completely different:
Philippa’s job, not mine.
She’s gone back and flown into it brilliantly. She had
a year off and yet she seems to have picked it up easier than she did when she
first started. Maybe she needed the Motherhood Hormones all along. They had a
long conversation before Christmas about what hours she would do and eventually
settled on Wednesday to Friday 8am to 4pm. It fits in nicely with what I do,
and Mathew has already adapted to the new routine without missing a beat. One
of the best friends we’ve made since we moved to Suffolk is the sister of a
registered pre-school childminder, so he spends two days with Amy, who is an
absolute gem, and then Philippa’s parents have him overnight every Thursday.
It’s working really well. We meet them somewhere for
a bite to eat in the evening, then they take him home, then Philippa goes over
to collect him on the Friday after work and gets to spend some time with her
mates or cousins while she’s up that way. I have the evening to myself to get
some drumming done, or get the hang of the harmonica, or just lounge around in
my pants, which seems to be becoming an increasingly enjoyable pastime as I get
older.
RC 29-1-20
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