Good with words

Fear... distractions.... the efforts of a self-employed writer to pay the mortgage.... all that jazz.

Thursday, April 13, 2006


Today I have entertained three visitors in my home office, wearing pyjamas. (Me, not them.) It is a sign of slipping standards, if you ask me. Britain's workforce is becoming a nation of duvet-wearing home-workers, and I am undoubtedly the worst one.

My day goes like this:

8.35: Alarm goes off. I press 'Ignore' and roll over.
9.11: Sunshine through window gradually rouses me into consciousness. Look at phone, grumble, and get out of bed.
9.14: Tickle Holly's tummy for approx. 5 minutes. Let her out for a wee.
9.17: Switch on the computer and check emails.
9.35: Let Holly back in. Force her to fetch the post from the mat for me.
10.00: Quick wash. No work has yet been done.
10.04: Put washing in machine, and wonder whether to get dressed.
12.58: Realise time with horror. Wonder what I have done all morning. Make lunch for me and Holly. Get back to doing nothing.
14.03: Time to walk Holly. Shall work when I get back. Honest.

I am about to change, but only because you can't go dog-walking up hills without a bra. Otherwise, who knows how long I would stay in the same clothes?

See, Holly - you are definitely good for something. Getting me out of my jim-jams.


  • At 7:20 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Oh, Anna, welcome to Homeworkerslobville - I am the honoury No 1 citizen, much practised at sounding incredibly efficient, with my fingers very much on the pulse of children's publishing...while wiping toothpaste from my mouth in order to speak on the phone, while wearing nothing at all, in the bathroom that often doubles as my office.

    No one knows that though.

  • At 5:18 AM, Blogger Clare said…

    my dad works from home and commented that the most complicated decision he has to make is which tie goes best with his pyjama bottoms...


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