Thursday 15th December 2022

At midday today, we will be halfway through the month.

Is this what getting old is, counting the days and weeks going by?

Looking forward to better days when we don't have to think of work shit and worries any more?

I could retire tomorrow. Life would be harder than if I stay for three more years, but if I'm honest, not sure if my mind could stand it.

I'm trying not to be dramatic, but the mental strain sometimes can be quite hard to bear. Most of the time it's OK, sometimes not.

Back in the days of operation quality it was hoping the weekend would come without difficult questions being asked, the stress is different to this. As an auditor, we know most of the company secrets. Can point out the lies and half truths.

It is Thursday, there are meetings, as always, and maybe no difficult mails to deal with.

We pointed out the issues for months, years, and we were ignored.

We were right, the sky is falling, and maybe the worst is yet to come.

Maybe.

I have nearly two weeks off from Tuesday, Jools has just one days less, and that day will have a party.

Here I am at the Hammersmith Hotel, counting the days away.

As Billy would say.

But to Thursday.

Up at half five. Cold and dark.

Coffee helps.

As do wide-eyed kittens, amazed, apparently, at the things we do. Cleo sits on the stairs and just observes, wide eyed and cute as a button.

Jools leaves for work at just gone seven, I set up the office: big screen, keyboard, mouse, camera, headphones and laptop. It takes about 15 minutes until its done, logged on and passwords entered.

Things got no worse overnight. At least for now.

Not much to report other than work.

Toast and chocolate spread for first breakfast, fruit later, and the rest of the vegetable soup for lunch.

I get the beginnings of a migraine from two, so go for a walk.

I put in the earbuds, put on my coat and hat, pull on my trainers and I am off on the usual pounding of the pavements up Station Road, then up and down each of the streets off it.

By Odin's Beard it was cold.

But I am not huffing and puffing so much, just need to have the get up and go to get up and go, and walk out of the house.

Music plays: Skids, Stevie Wonder and Sly and the Family Stone, tunes from my i-pod which died two years back, but apple music remembers.

Last stretch is tot he thumping beats of Dance Like a Monkey by the New York Dolls.

Back inside as he sun went down, slithering the last stretch down the track at the end of our street, still white with frost and as slippery as the Cresta Run.

Dinner was fritters, and washed down with another bottle of Belgian Christmas beer. The fritters had leftover bacon and chestnuts, so each bite was something different, and all rather nice. That's the thing with fritters, you can throw just about anything and everything in them.

No football to watch, just music to listen to on the wireless.

And then to bed.