The day has run away from me again.
We stayed up until almost 4 a.m. this morning. A finished work closer to 2, and the three of us just talked until we all got too tired to carry on, though we would have done if we’d not been the sensible grown-ups that we are. We spoke mainly about the unpredictability a) f zero hours contract work and the need to grab the work while you get it, and b) how the hospitality sector, even if you’re on a permanent contract, is unpredictable from a working hours point of view. It just goes to show that those of us with permanent contracts not in hospitality need to count our blessings, although, in truth, we shouldn’t have to. It reinforces the imbalance there is between those who have a lot of money (money that does a lot of their work for them), and those who don’t. And that makes the recent “mini-budget” even more morally reprehensible and vile. Yes, vile is the right word.
So we got up late – although M surfaced almost an hour before my tired body allowed me to force it out of my warm and comfy bed. Whatever happened to the rock n roll lifestyle of my youth? In truth, it’s best left there; it has a lot to answer for, and the feelings of tiredness and permanent aches I have now can be laid fairly and squarely at its door. It’s all very well having fun, but doing it to extremes, and playing high-impact sports as if I were immortal, have not done my body any favours. I’m not giving up, though. When all the current travails are laid to bed, I definitely still plan to start fencing again.
En garde, world!
AGGIE’S ART OF HAPPINESS – CHAPTER 225