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Date: 30/05/12

My Day

Up and about a little later than usual this morning, as I had a nurse's appointment at 08:30 so was going to call there on the way in to work. So no hurrying around trying to finish my breakfast in time to catch the 07:20 bus; which also meant that I avoided getting snarled up in the consequences of allowing some twit to trot down the main road into town carrying a small blaze in a bucket.

I left the house at about 07:35 to start the two-mile walk to the surgery (any buses - assuming they run on time - would either get me there too early or slightly too late). It was a pleasant enough morning, but there was a slight chill and a mist which meant that you couldn't see the top of the village from the bottom.

Taking my time gently, partly because my blood sugar level had rocketed overnight and I was feeling a bit queasy as a result, I got to the surgery just before 08:25. I'd hardly had time to report in and sit down before the nurse called me through. After a chat about my blood results from last month (not all that good), she took my blood pressure (this being the reason why I'd had to have a follow-up appointment). My BP this time was very good, and so I set off again in slightly better spirits.

Got to the nearest bus stop to find that I had missed one bus by about five minutes, and the next one wouldn't be through there for close on half an hour. So I decided to walk to the next stop, as that is on my normal route and the buses - in theory - run more often past it.

Of course, I was waiting for quite some time. The after-effects of the O*y*p*c jollies in town were still being felt, causing the buses to run about ten to fifteen minutes late. One came along in the end, and I got to work at 09:15...

Approaching the main door to the office, I saw that a print of a photograph had been affixed to it. On getting closer, I realised that the photograph was of me, aged twelve. I groaned. You see, I hit fifty at the end of next week, and the custom in the case of members of staff reaching the 'milestone' birthdays (there's a misprint there, chums - one 'e' too many, one 'l' too few) or retirement is to put embarrassing photographs up on the doors between the front entrance and the wing that they work on.

So it was for me today. Now, I know that I said that I wasn't going to be fifty until a week on Saturday, but the faffing about with school holidays caused by the J*b*l*e means that a large proportion of my team weren't going to be in next week and, quite rightly, they hadn't wanted to miss out on the fun. So there was another photograph on the double doors by the lift, and two more on the doors between there and my desk; all of these generously provided by my niece Andrea, who had been waiting for her chance of revenge since I'd provided some (rather sweet, I thought) pictures to her colleagues when she turned thirty. All this did for me was to remind me yet again of why I hate having my photograph taken, especially if I don't have time to put my 'serious face' on first.

As I went through the last set of doors and neared that Workstation Of The Cross (and, oft-times of the Very Cross) which is known as 'my desk', I saw the banners dangling slightly giddily from the ceiling. Getting to my destination, I saw that - in clear contravention of Depratmental Policy (which gods preserve) - the surface of the desk was covered in silver foil glitter and silver foil '50's. On the desk also was a gift bag from my manager's manager and - on my document holder (documents, holding, for the use of) a number of cards from my colleagues.

Having cleared the glitter away to one side, I then tried to get down to the work of the day, especially as I had lost at least an hour and a half's working time. I lost some more as people came up to congratulate me, with me having to explain each time that I wasn't fifty just yet.

Anyway, my morning puttered on until the daily team meeting at 10:30, at the end of which I was presented with a very nice cake and an oblong cardboard box about twelve inches wide by seven inches deep and four inches high. I thanked everyone for their kindness (no, I was genuinely moved), but was then instructed to open the box. The following is what I found within:

(In my perambulations around the office earlier, I had also picked up a card and kind gift from someone who used to be on the same team as me. Thanks, Joy, I haven't opened it yet - I'm leaving everything until The Day itself).

Suitably alternately gobsmacked and mildly embarrassed, I stumbled on - not getting very much done - until noon. That's when we headed off to lunch at an inn just a couple of miles or so away.

One very nice beef lasagne and some very amiable banter later, it was back to the office to try to get done something of what I am being paid vast sums by 'decent, hard-working, wealth-creating, taxpaying folk' to do. I'd intended to finish at 14:30, but at about 14:20 was visited by a Technical officer who had come to advise me on a case I was having trouble dealing with. By the time she had gone, it had gone half past, and I resigned myself to having to stay an extra hour, as the next bus on which I had a cat in hell's chance of being able to get all this stuff on wasn't until then.

Thanks to the suggestion of another colleague, I went across to see a friend on the other side of the building to ask her what time she was finishing, expecting the answer to be 'four o'clock'. It turned out that she was clocking off at about 15:10, i.e. about five minutes later, so I had to dash back to my desk - complete with the two carrier bags she had lent me so that I could carry the loot - clear everything away and carry out the administrative tasks which enable the number-crunchers to do what they do.

I got home shortly before 15:30.

And that was my day. I'm glad I'm not fifty every year - I'd be exhausted.

File under: Me