Next to Godliness

I'll be honest with you - I cycle to work. That usually requires that I have a shower when I get to the office. I'm lucky in my current job; the facilities for the sweaty cyclists are vee good. We have a bank of power showers at our disposal. I was scrubbing the mire off the other morning when I spotted a plug had been placed in each cubicle. What's the thinking behind that?

The base of the shower cubicle is a little, recessed trough about four inches deep. It is possible then to fill this space with warm, soapy water if so desired. The plug was in the plughole when I arrived this morning. I shudder to think what the previous occupant had been up to, but whatever it was, he's more flexible than yours truely. I suppose one could squat down like a sumo wrestler and park the spuds in the water, but it's gilding the lily really.

Back to the Grind

I've been rather slack of late. Sorry about that, but I do have heavyweight mitigating circs. I've been on holiday, and I have a new job.

The holiday was lovely, thank you for asking - a week in genuinely sunny Cornwall followed by a few days camping it up in north Norfolk. The job, however, is proving to be more of a challenge.

I suffer from a condition known as impostor syndrome. I've had periodic bouts of this my whole life, but it's particularly acute when changing jobs. I've been at the new post for four days now, and I think it safe to say that I don't know what the phuck I'm doing. Worse still - I've been given an underling to tutor. What I'm supposed to say to him is anyone's guess. Still onwards and upwards. What's the worst that could happen? Public humiliation swiftly followed by the right royal sack. It's not like I'm in Guantanamo Bay or anything. I rock myself to sleep each night repeating those words like a sacred mantra. I honestly thought adult life would be a walk in the park compared with childhood. It appears I misjudged the situation hugely. Still, we'll always have Paris.