Has a whole week passed already?

This one’s whipped by in a happy frenzy of work-related productivity.

That’s not even sarcasm: I actually like my job. I still have to pinch myself sometimes. I spent so many years in an industry I actively disagreed with, doing a job I hated myself for, that I can barely believe I’m finally free of it and spending my days being paid to do things I enjoy.

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One of those days that feels like a novel

It’s Monday morning. I wake up to the sound of seagulls screeching outside the window, sun straining through the blind.

I work for a bit, perched on the edge of the single bed in the hotel room with a bright pink laptop on my knee and my feet resting on the chair opposite, tapping out replies to emails and deciding on my Out Of Office message.

By 10am I’m on a bus through the countryside, familiar places passing by the window, invoking memories that have lain dormant since I last returned almost three years ago.

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