It’s now 18 days, 20 hours, and 3 minutes since I was retrenched. Being retrenched is not – as I was promised- sitting in front of the TV, tucking into chicken buckets. It’s interviews, searching for freelance, job agencies, severance pay wrangles, and lawyers. That, and hours of idle waiting, where a boredom not felt since being stuck in Gatwick airport for 8 hours with no money sets in.
With cable TV a distant memory, I spend ages staring engrossed at the chugging swimming pool vacuum cleaner. We’re becoming close friends, I think. We swim and gambol in the water, rather like the guy in the Big Blue riding the dolphins- only not.
I have thoughts of freeing the pool cleaner. Think Free Willy; but substitute Orca and cherubic Disney kid with a Kreepy Krauly and a 38 year-old with man tits. I'll set it free in the Juksei river, where it can chug, salmon-like to the ocean, picking up tasty bits of grit along the way.
Godspeed, my plastic pal.