Slave

On Friday, as scheduled, International and I had lunch. Good Friday fayre – fish and chips - at a local café named “Rendevous” followed by a walk in St James’s Park. As an aside I would strongly recommend the walk from Parliament to St James’s Park via Queen Anne’s Gate. It’s a lovely part of London, even if you aren’t there with your boyfriend.

I couldn’t enjoy my time with International as much as I wanted because pressures of work preyed on my mind. I’ve been working all day today even to get things done; and things are getting there, so that’s good. Hopefully this week(end) of frantic activity represents the peak (or trough) of it.

One aspect of my new job has been a relative isolation compared to where I was previously. All my work is ‘external’ – meaning I do the things that affect people outside the organisation, not in it, rather than ‘internal’ work of analysis and reporting. That can be tough because it’s relatively hard to demonstrate the value of what I do. Conversely in the private sector or, to use a technical term, the “real world”, where pensions have to be saved for and you can be sacked for such bourgeois offences as not doing your job properly, I would be bringing clients in and generating income/business which would be of the utmost importance.

Well thus it ever was; I must admit I’m proud of what I’m achieving and God knows it’s really challenging high-level work.

I’m not blowing my own trumpet – if I could do that I wouldn’t need a boyfriend – just having a little me moment…

Anyway, I dislike the compromise between work and romance – particularly as I’m very focussed on one or the other at any given point. One of the reasons I’m working this weekend is because I can’t work at home next week. Again my social dance-card is full of waltzes (and the occasional tango).

Monday, late, International is staying over. Sadly the boiler really has broken down. It requires a new circuit board. Indeed a rare and precious Faberge circuit board that, judging by how long it will take to arrive, may only be sourced from somewhere beyond the orbit of Saturn. I have warned International of his likely privation but he insists I will be able to keep him warm…

And on Tuesday I obey the summons of friends for their ‘intervention’. I fear few people approve of my relationship; so few that I have decided to canvas opinion with a new poll (on the right here). Now gentle reader it is safe to let me know what you think without the fires of my Leonine pride visiting righteous wrath upon thee. For now.