one wave short of a shipwreck
Part of me is very glad indeed that I worked from home today. I've had quite a nice time, as it happens, and had I not become engrossed in my work this afternoon you might have heard how I really appreciated my little shopping trip before lunch to the butcher, the baker and the, ahem, greengrocer, along the main street in an area which I am becoming increasingly attached to. I also enjoyed the most delicious rump steak for dinner, which in many ways made not being trapped in Swindon even sweeter.
Of course, I feel very sorry for everyone who has been stuck by the flash floods, but there is a part of me that isn't pleased I worked at home. Part of me longs to have been in the chaos, in the thick of the action. Part of me wants to be in the crowds at the station, and not watching them on TV. Part of me longs to know what it's like for a commute to turn in to being stranded overnight, and I feel that I should experience it now, whilst I am young and have nowhere I desparately need to be rather than when I am old and saddled with responsibility.
Just think, yours truly could have been there, blogging live from the scene, soaking up the atmosphere and sharing it in a way which TV never can. Instead I'm blogging from my living room, with nothing more to interesting or unusual to say than "I'm about to go to the pub". Still, it beats staying in on a Friday night and changing my bank, I guess.
Am I going slightly mad?
Of course, I feel very sorry for everyone who has been stuck by the flash floods, but there is a part of me that isn't pleased I worked at home. Part of me longs to have been in the chaos, in the thick of the action. Part of me wants to be in the crowds at the station, and not watching them on TV. Part of me longs to know what it's like for a commute to turn in to being stranded overnight, and I feel that I should experience it now, whilst I am young and have nowhere I desparately need to be rather than when I am old and saddled with responsibility.
Just think, yours truly could have been there, blogging live from the scene, soaking up the atmosphere and sharing it in a way which TV never can. Instead I'm blogging from my living room, with nothing more to interesting or unusual to say than "I'm about to go to the pub". Still, it beats staying in on a Friday night and changing my bank, I guess.
Am I going slightly mad?
Comments
I wasn't thinking of those a little older than me. I was thinking that for some places it's been many years since we've seen such disruption, and I was envisaging myself being sruck when I was grey and balding and needing to be somewhere for an important meeting or event.
I'm sure that there are plenty of people with less hair than me who would have, and probably did, cope admirably with being stranded.