Twenty-Nine
I’m going. Hal agrees that if we work things out carefully, I can do it. He also thinks if I don’t do it, I’ll end up the way I end up every time I was off sick or on holiday. I love pretending I don’t work, but when that happens, I’ll pretend I do. I bet I do.
I’ve got this offer and I’m going. I can’t guarantee the people who run this retreat will help when I’m less than well, but Hal says that he’ll make sure they have his phone number so if something goes arse upward, he can come out to Robertson and rescue me. And work gave me time off without even a blink. Work will support a fellowship where they won’t support a holiday. Have I ever written a note about work, or do I hate it so very much that I avoid thinking about it? The latter, obviously.
That’s the short stuff. Ne
