CHARLOTTE HATHERLEY ROCKING GUILDFORD
Write presentation, go to meeting, go home, go to work, go to Guilfest, three days running. Rock with the oldies to classic bands like Supergrass (hey, they were 90s, that was only yesterday), Madness (80s, we're getting on a bit here) and Squeeze (positively ancient but very very good). Hide in the comedy tent when the rain fell down. Get home, stay up late knitting (I'm so rock and roll), go to work, write presentations, provide estimates, write case studies, have meetings, go to open air theatre and see gershwin play, enjoy picnic and ambience and company but not the bloody music and jazz hands, go home and stay up late knitting (again), go to work and finish presentations, off now to meet ex colleague to find out how he's getting on, followed by race to a church hall to meet R to play badminton. And tomorrow it's more presentations, more cost estimates, more meetings, followed by the Ealing comedy festival in the evening, another day at work and the Lovebox Weekender music festival on saturday and sunday.
I never thought I'd find myself looking forward to chemo, but I can't wait for next Tuesday to put an end to all this madness and get some peace.
I'm actually having a good time, but I'm knackered. I've taken too much on, again. It will serve me right if I get ill again but so far I seem to be holding out. Just.
As long as I make it to next week I'll be ok. Next week seems to herald the start of silly season professionally. The yanks will have gone home, every marketing director in London is on holiday with their family, and half the agency will be on a beach. I'll be alternating between the sick bed (or more precisely, sick sofa) and the desk, but will be twiddling my thumbs in both places, wondering where everybody's gone.
But at least it will give me a chance to get my breath back.