Work Archive

  There’s a lot to do. It will be tough, there will be a number of difficult situations to overcome – now is not the time to falter. I really wouldn’t want it any other way. With last week off, relaxed and at peace with life as a family man – I have now returned to work; in to a new financial year. The significance of the timing is that my organisation now has less than two years left on our contract. More importantly, I have less than one year left of my secondment. This is a good thing. The main reason I work in project management is for the finite nature of the work. In recent times that finite nature has not been as

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I’ve done a fair bit of walking on this trip. As I’ve walked around, I’ve not, as is customary, looked in the expensive shop windows of Milan. I’ve been more interested in the grey, soulless looking buildings that sit above, or behind that gloss of fashion. It’s no secret that I would like to live out here one day – preferably in the North, either Turin or Milan. If I was to move the family – including Nonna *shudder* then, to do it before we are too old, I would have to find a job out here. Amy has taught English abroad before, and I guess would not be adverse to doing so again. I don’t think I have the patience/interest to spend the next

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I’m good at what I do. It’s not the greatest answer. By no means one that will end up on a quotation site – and yes, of course, I will expand. It is the right answer. It is why they should give me the job. I try never to explain what I do for a living. It’s not that I am a spy, or that what I do is top secret – even if most of the documents I read are labelled as confidential; or sent via email with an angry, red exclamation mark stamped on it. What I do is work for one institution, which hosts another – that works on behalf of a third one. If I say I work for the first

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It’s a river. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s a fairly non-descript river. A river that has, through nature and man, had its course changed – its quality eroded – its importance altered over time. But it is, for all intents and purposes – still, just a river. But as an idiom; it’s more than that. It is the point of no return. If you cross the river – metaphorically cross the Rubicon – the path of your life will have changed for good. For the good? I’m reminded of the Rubicon as I plan a trip to Rome next week. I am reminded of how Julius Caesar once crossed the river, defying tradition – by leading his legions in to Italy, thus committing an act

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The next three connected posts – planned to run over the next three days – are about a subject that is, quite literally (Jamie), close to my heart; anxiety. The first, connected, will try to give an understanding of how I came to accept I had to deal with my anxiety. The second, disconnected, will give an insight in to the root causes of my anxiety. The final piece, reconnected, will shed some light on how – I hope – I’ve learnt to identify and manage the times when the feelings of anxiety begin to take a hold. It’s not something I find easy to write about. It’s not something I necessarily care for others to know about – but if this blog is about

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I swear. I swear a lot. I can never remember if it is like a docker, a trooper, a fox or a pig. Either way, it is something I do on a regular basis. Or at least I once did. Have a baby and everyone with or without a kid will instantly tell you that your life is about to change. What they don’t tell you is that, rather than the social, working or sporting side of your life – all of which you can just about manage to keep a hold of in some part – it is your mannerisms that change the most. Before Lauren was born, I’d regularly call friends a ‘knobber’ – within reason, as in they had acted like one.

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I don’t dream. Not really. At night maybe, but not with what you might call hope. Not in that genuinely enthusiastic way people with aspirations do. People who tell the world what their dream job might be, or where they hope to be living in 5, 10, 15 years time. I talk long of my love for Italy, and how I’d one day like to live out there. That of course could be viewed as a dream. But ask me what I might do whilst I’m out there and the mind kind of draws a blank. I want the location; I just have no idea how to get past the language, the skills and the determination. Dreaming just isn’t in my nature. The problem you

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Do you ever have one of those days where everything you do appears to come signposted, or at least has a symbol associated with it – a negative portent, if not an enormous neon sign advising you turn back? I’m about to walk in to a meeting where a delegate has been replaced by a more senior member of the workforce. Historically this has meant that something has gone wrong, some bad news is coming our way; I have to find the right words to pass on to others – that can’t include panic, problem or crisis. When managers appear, bad news is never too far behind them. I was also first in a group to get my sandwich at lunch time. The others had

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Ok, so the title is slightly misleading. It’s not meant to imply that porn is the friend; a crutch I rely on when I’m down or have certain urges. No. What I mean is that I have a friend who works in the porn industry. A friend who now goes by the professional name of Lara Latex – her real world name forever lost to her thousands of fans on facebook and twitter. We met at college. We were on the same course, though she was in the year above. We played on the same Volleyball team, had the same group of mates and went on the same nights out – though I think we both would have preferred to have been somewhere less commercial

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