I have plenty to report: My silence in recent weeks has been due to the kind of portentous change that bloggers like Robert Fripp report in infuriatingly vague terms. Anyway, having been with my present employer for five and a half years, I've been feeling increasingly unable to contribute or feel satisfaction from my work. It seems to lack meaning. I'm a bit depressed. A headhunter came to me with another position with another firm, and having undergone a mutually satisfactory interview, I will be joining them on April 26th. The work will be harder, and I will be far more visible and accountable. And, yes, that is a good thing. I need a shake-up.
I was 38 on Wednesday. Still am. Went to see Fish at the Liquid Rooms. After feeling vaguely unsettled that I wasn't in a bistro with my fiance, I got into the swing of things. I suspect the front of house sound man was wishing he were somewhere else as well.
Today sees the publication of my first professional work of fiction, a Doctor Who short story about the early CND Aldermaston Marches. My contributos copies of Short Trips: Past Tense arrived today. By an astonishing coincidence, a few hundred miles south of here, a revived march is starting as I type.
I'm glad to be leaving my current employer, because I have neglected my relationship with my job and need to move on. I'm also glad to be about to cut down my weekly bike mileage because 90 a week is giving me sore legs and making me too tired to use the gym as much as I'd like. I suspect I may be about to revert to being a bus-travelling gym user.
Plans for the weekend are unclear. I think Helen wants to go away to some remote island. As it's Easter, I'm not sure this is a good idea. Also, I have plenty to do at home.
Five weeks until the wedding.