Tuesday 12 September 2017


Although nominally signed off sick until this coming Wednesday, as I've already mentioned, I’ve actually been back at work since last week. That might sound crazy, but my rationale for this is that:

a) the surgeon initially told me that I’d need a week off, then two weeks – which I arranged with work – and then, on the day of the operation itself, three weeks. Once I’d established that I was going to be experiencing discomfort rather than pain, I didn’t really want to string things out any longer than necessary. My stitches have nearly dissolved now and everything

b) I was going a bit stir-crazy, rattling around by myself at home and needed some company. I was in the most ridiculously good mood as soon as I got back into the office purely because I like my team and I was delighted to be spending time with them, work dramas notwithstanding

The plan was that I would ease myself back in with a week of shorter days, trying to leave for home by about 3pm. I’m still not allowed to cycle or run, so I’ve been forced to bring my car in too… so at least this would mean missing all of the traffic.

I sounded optimistic that I could make this work but obviously, just as no battle plan survives contact with the enemy, this plan worked for all of two days, both of which saw me home early enough to pop up to Trent Bridge for an hour or so of country cricket after work. So far, so good.

Then Friday happened: there was a major incident at work that saw me staying at the office until gone 8pm, then up on Saturday for a 7am conference call and a weekend of multiple conference calls (about nineteen in total) and quite a lot of sitting at my desk working. I was then into the office for 06:30 on both Monday and Tuesday, as the incident rumbled on.... and will be on Wednesday too, and probably the rest of the week too.

I also don’t get paid any overtime.

Oh well. I tried.  My sick note expires tomorrow and I'm back to work as per normal.


Good times.

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