Today I left work in daylight for the first time this year. Okay, that’s a lie, actually, because on Sunday I left work before 2pm and it was daylight then. I’m not meant to be there on Sunday, though, so for me that doesn’t count.

Not only was this a proper working day, where I walked out of the office before dark, but I made the 17:40 train and it was fantastic strolling down the hill to the station with the sun still in the sky. It felt like spring was finally on the way, although this being Scotland it’ll probably be back to lashing hail by the weekend.

The seasonal affective disorder sufferer in me yearns for the clocks going back, with building excitement for the potential that summer holds due to the near endless possibilities for entertainment that the better weather brings. Tennis, skateboarding, cycling, throwing the ball around in the park – the kinds of things that are so free, fun, and made all the more so by sunny skies.

Since I’ve been working such ridiculous hours recently, I’m even more impatient for those warm summer months than I have been in years. The first two and a half months of 2009 have been a bit like bad Japanese porn – the good bits have been few and far between and kind of blurry when they did happen.

Fortunately, there are two weeks to go before the end of the gruelling project I’m on. When it’s all over, daylight saving time will have arrived and I’ll take a few days off to enjoy the extra hours of light and take comfort in the fact that summer will be well on the way.

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No Guts, No Glory

This week has been the most gruelling test of endurance at work, and included the first time I’ve gone to work of a morning and worked until the afternoon of the following day in a good long time. I think I was working nights stacking shelves in Somerfield while at college the last time that happened.

That Wednesday morning ’til Thursday afternoon stint was tough, for sure, but the real killer has been the return of the stress related stomach cramps I’ve not suffered for the best part of a decade. It was July 1999, whilst working under ridiculous pressure at Radio Clyde, when I was diagnosed as having chronic stress. For almost a year I had been told by my regular doctor that I kept getting gastroentoritis from all the junk food I was eating.

Sounded pretty plausible to me, because I really was eating a lot of crap at the time.

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Mission Difficult

Today is the big day – big in the sense that some multinational companies have poured a large amount of money into a project that now comes to a head for myself and the rest of my team. For the next two or three days it’s all about executing what we’ve prepared for and reacting to the things that don’t go as planned in the right way.

It’s about time, too – the last couple of days waiting for the time when we can kick off the processing and ride the rollercoaster have been torture. It could well be the most stressful weekend I’ve had in years, although, as I’ve recently read, stress is for people who mistakenly believe their jobs to be terribly important.;)

Myself, I’m hoping we can demonstrate that we can deal with the issues as they happen, even when the dominoes aren’t falling quite as they have done during rehearsal. The important thing to bear in mind is that even if things do go wrong, it’s not going to be impossible to engineer a solution because we’re well prepared and we’re more than capable of digging ourselves out of a hole.

Difficult, yes, but not impossible.

Time to sleep, for tomorrow we kick ass. 😀

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