M

I hear car doors and children, probably off to church or Christmas shopping. Miss Dover still sleeps. My night tremors keep her awake so I let her rest in the mornings. Monika arrived yesterday with her mother, a delightful Polish lady whose family had escaped the Nazis before the war. We ate biscuits and I showed her my family tree. Miss Dover and I had worked ourselves into a frenzy of anticipation before their arrival, pressing our faces anxiously against the window, peering down the street. Two smeary prints stand as slovenly testament to our nerves. It is ridiculous really, M is shy and gentle and seemed to enjoy her visit. At the end she said "I think I'll take" and indicated several pieces (the things I thought she might like). Afterwards though I fell into a sort of post interview paranoia. Should I have said this? Why did she not want to take that?


I had had another interview, only a day or so before. HR was ready to see me to arrange my reentry into working life. I was surprised to see that Miss W was a pale young lady some years my junior and, although she obviously had skills with the sniper rifle and email, in person was not as frightening. My phasing in (I like this, it sounds like Star Trek) begins next week. Whether or not I will ever be allowed to use the back door remains to be seen although I am hoping that my mentioning of the disability discrimination act may help.