Taking stock

I've been in a bit of a funk for about a week, now, what with a number of little things. Nothing like last year, thankfully, nothing that significant - which just made it all the more irritating. Work sent me to Denmark on Valentine's Day, which ended up being a complete waste of time, I've not really made any significant impact on my university work for this year, yet, and my writing's been slipping lately as well.

So I sat in a dim, rather depressing hotel room in Billund and took stock. I teach kids once a week - nothing spectacular, more supervision than direct teaching, but they enjoy it, and it gets them working out. It's good stuff.

I write, and (literally) hundreds of people are waiting for the next chapter. Would they pay me for it, maybe not, but they're willing to write a note and let me know they're waiting. Presumably, then, it's good stuff.

I got my university results back from last year, another pass. Not as spectacular a result as other years, but for having come through a cancer scare to get it - and passing on my own merit, not needing a concession to do it - I'm happy; it's good stuff.

I have a reasonable job, I suppose. Not thrilling, but something of a challenge, even if I'm not honestly putting as much into as I could (and should). More importantly, to me, I earn well. In 2002 the average wage in Britain was £23,607. * Figure four years of inflation takes that to somewhere around £25,000 (probably). I'm doing better than that. It's good.

In fact, on balance, I'm pretty bloody good. I'm faithful to my wife, we bring up two challenging kids to be happy and the 'experts' tell us they're advancing better than most - most of that is the kids, of course, but we give them an environment to thrive in. Frankly, I'm pretty damned good.

I feel better now. It is good.


* http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Average_worker%27s_wage