Christmas Monday

I’m not totally sure why I’m in work today. Then again, I’m not sure why I’m in work on any day. There are so many better things I can be doing. Today (and tomorrow) are exceptions. I feel justified in wondering what I’m doing being here. I normally make it a point of using whatever holidays I have for the last few days leading up to Christmas. This year I’m told that I haven’t any holidays. I used them up being sick and taking compassionate days after my father died. So I’m here.

I spent my weekend drawing two cartoons (one unpublished but my best yet) and doing a little writing. My eyes wouldn’t allow me to get much done. They were red and puffy for most of the time; a result of working Thursday and Friday last week, two shifts of eight hours staring at these screens. I'll have to learn to take more breaks when I’m here.

The trains were half-empty. T he station quiet. Even today's Metro (the newspaper) is thin and barely worth picking up. I don’t read it myself. It’s for other people in the office.

[Update: I have received my first Christmas card.]

[Update 2: I should add that I'm in one of the worst moods I've ever afflicted on an office. Listening to Cohen's 'Songs of Love and Hate' on the way into work probably didn't help.]

[Update 3: God bless eye-drops and paracetamol. I feel a little better. I can now see the screen. The woman in Boots told me that I had to be careful not to take more than eight in a day. I replied that she was giving me ideas. She seemed to believe me and gave me a leaflet on depression at Christmas. I replied that if I was seriously thinking about doing myself in, I wouldn't have spent three quid on a Mexican style bean wrap.]

[Update 4: Note to self. I must try to be more cheerful when I blog. If He really did write a blog, He would definitely be more upbeat. I should write some poems about a love for vintage automobiles. Perhaps post some pictures here of quaint English pubs.]