There's an end to the week?

In my previous world, every day started and ended pretty much the same way. Crammed in a tube. No, it wasn't a "honey, i shrunk the kids" situation. i'm referring to the London underground. The bit in the middle was what we call work. Okay, so my working days were fairly varied. Some days in x part of the country in x company meeting mr x. Other days doing the same, but with a y. However, it was still work. I still sat in front of a laptop all day, manipulating numbers. The weekends were there to mix it up and have fun. Oh, and get to the bank, post office and any other essential service that closes before the general working population finishes their working day. If you were lucky you'd make it during lunch hour, eating your sandwich on the go. Trying not to get the filling all over your trousers. Usually umsuccessfully,

These days my weekly schedule looks more like a holiday at Butlins. Each and every day is my own, well sort of, and I love it. Don't get me wrong, looking after Lady F is a full time job. But I get to create where and how the work is done.

What a great job.

I get to meet up with friends for a chat any time of day, well almost. I get to meet new people and not have our conversation dictated by an agenda to talk about this accounting standard or that issue. Even if now it's mostly this is how they sleep or that milestone has been reached.

I get to go swimming in the middle of the day. I get to sit in a circle of mums and babies singing silly songs.

I get to eat a lunch not from a packet or canteen serving yesterdays roast chicken as today's chicken curry, without having to make small talk with important people.

I get to laugh in the middle of the day, make silly faces and voices and not have my colleauges look at me like a crazy person.

I'm so grateful for my new job. The best part, it didn't require an interview.

The weekend?! What's a weekend?!


Photo credit: http://www.guardian.co.uk/business/2010/feb/13/work-life-balance-week-thinktank