WEDNESDAY 20TH NOVEMBER 2019
My first day in thirty-two years of not actually earning a salary. This troubles me somewhat, but I am mostly alone in my own company to think about this, and whilst I do make a few tenuous steps towards doing some things, eventually I do have to go out for a while, which breaks up the day.
Under the theory of trying to keep busy, I spend the morning working up some artwork as a favour to the extended family which was requested some time before the chaos of imminent redundancy hit me.
I manage to produce "something" but I'm less than encouraged at my first efforts at producing some actual Graphic Design in a while, and my confidence begins to crumble, even as the transfer of telephone numbers to an older telephone does at least bring a modicum of success to my day.
But at leat IO do phone the C.A.B. even though it's likely to be a while before I act upon their advice.
I decide to spend much of my day playing with some animation software for an idea I have had brewing for a while and, once I upload it, it does appear to be well-received.
There is work to be done around the house, but both our moods plummet during the afternoon as we struggle to engage with our telly choices.
After a bad night, I wake up to find more cricketing disasters have occurred (from an England and Wales point of view anyway) and work my way through a couple of long podcasts which have just been published. Sadly, these only serve to trigger an unfortunate sense of despair at my own lack of abilities, and I start to crumble so much that I decide that I have to walk away from Social Media for a time.
In announcing this, of course, I find that my online circle of people are very kind and supportive in the things that they say which I find in my timeline when I pop back to post a quick "angry doodle" that was prompted by the launch of the Tory Manifesto today.
My mood is generally not being helped by knowing that there are probably still enough people out there who still believe that this contemptible oaf is God's gift to get him re-elected, and this is one of the reasons I'm finding it more and more of a daily struggle to face the day.
The mood brightens slightly as I spend the afternoon cooking; firstly I make a beef stew from bits and pieces in the fridge (having skipped a Sunday supermarket run for once), and then I act as sous-chef to my Beloved as she works on the annual Christmas cake bake.
MONDAY 25TH NOVEMBER 2019
THURSDAY 21ST NOVEMBER 2019
I manage to produce "something" but I'm less than encouraged at my first efforts at producing some actual Graphic Design in a while, and my confidence begins to crumble, even as the transfer of telephone numbers to an older telephone does at least bring a modicum of success to my day.
But at leat IO do phone the C.A.B. even though it's likely to be a while before I act upon their advice.
FRIDAY 22ND NOVEMBER 2019
I also send a few emails to people I've been meaning to get in touch with to let them know the current situation. One is to thank our former landlords at the office for all their kindliness over the years because I never got the chance to go and say goodbye.
That probably seems an odd thing to do, but there you go.
That probably seems an odd thing to do, but there you go.
SATURDAY 23RD NOVEMBER 2019
It is not a good day.
SUNDAY 24TH NOVEMBER 2019
My mood is generally not being helped by knowing that there are probably still enough people out there who still believe that this contemptible oaf is God's gift to get him re-elected, and this is one of the reasons I'm finding it more and more of a daily struggle to face the day.
The mood brightens slightly as I spend the afternoon cooking; firstly I make a beef stew from bits and pieces in the fridge (having skipped a Sunday supermarket run for once), and then I act as sous-chef to my Beloved as she works on the annual Christmas cake bake.
Station run tales:
The coffee seller seems to be well again; Two spectre-like eyes punctuate the grey of the dawn sky; A brace of foxes dash from a garden and then go in the one next door; A silver BMW near misses me after he decides that Stop signs don’t refer to him.
...oh, and the thing I thought was a nasty right-wing election flyer that had been left under a stone on the doorstep on Friday evening turned out to be a nasty right-wing election flyer - which is now sitting damply in the recycling bin.
A month to Christmas and I am feeling very down, though not because of that. Instead of trying to spend some time relaxing, I rather stupidly set about doing another animation project, but my brain seems to be full of mush today, despite the kind overnight reply to one of my emails, which prompts a short flurry of activity via Messenger, mostly, but my failures with the animations make me feel rather bleak.
In the afternoon, I decide to attempt another project instead and start to mess around with Book Templates which frustrate me so much that I genuinely start to believe that I can't do anything, and I'm astonished at just how quickly the confidence in yourself evaporates.
Just to prove no good turn goes unpunished, because they have my contact details, I get a message from the former office landlords asking what happened to our keys - the ones we handed over during our TERMINATION meetings.
I respond, once again reminded of the arrogance of the company that got rid of me, but it is an excuse, at least, to exchange messages with my former art department colleagues and prove that my old phone number is active again.
Sadly, this leads to several hours of me grumpily failing to get iMessage to work on my relic of a phone, so I'm three for three on the abject failure scoreboard for the day, and all the kind messages in the world (one of my old podcast efforts getting considerable praise) fail to offset my sense of utter, abject, miserable failure today.
I watched the last two episodes of Van der Valk, too.
In the afternoon, I decide to attempt another project instead and start to mess around with Book Templates which frustrate me so much that I genuinely start to believe that I can't do anything, and I'm astonished at just how quickly the confidence in yourself evaporates.
Just to prove no good turn goes unpunished, because they have my contact details, I get a message from the former office landlords asking what happened to our keys - the ones we handed over during our TERMINATION meetings.
I respond, once again reminded of the arrogance of the company that got rid of me, but it is an excuse, at least, to exchange messages with my former art department colleagues and prove that my old phone number is active again.
Sadly, this leads to several hours of me grumpily failing to get iMessage to work on my relic of a phone, so I'm three for three on the abject failure scoreboard for the day, and all the kind messages in the world (one of my old podcast efforts getting considerable praise) fail to offset my sense of utter, abject, miserable failure today.
I watched the last two episodes of Van der Valk, too.
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