I’ve been feeling more like a raw material than an employee lately. The parent company has a fetish for process and procedure, and, being German, can’t understand why the British employees don’t receive new directives with great joy and shouting of loyal slogans. Today, I received two things that failed to gladden my heart. First, a glossy 16-pager with chapter titles such as “Vision” and “Mission Statement”, for which this company has been charged internally something like £5 per copy. One to each employee of course (because that will make us feel … integrated). Second, an invitation to a lunchtime company meeting at which it will be revealed whether we are all going to have our work moved to India, and instructions on how glad we should be about the result.

Meantime, I have to deliver this code so we can bill for it this year. It’s looking possible but not without pain. Last year I was sent to Detroit in the weekend I was intending to get my Χmas shopping done. I’m not going to get much done this year either.

In order to claw back a little sanity, this lunchtime I got out of the office and spent nearly an hour at Kate’s allotment sawing up wood. Actually it did me the power of good. I work to live, not the other way round.