Another necessarily quiet day to pay for yesterday's activity.
I wake up thinking about work. In fact I have dreamed about it.
Hands up all those of you who instantly groan and comment on how awful it is that I am so stressed about work that even five months into a year of travelling, I still have it on my mind.
Wrong.
It was a nice dream. I enjoyed it.
There are plenty of reasons why I might chose now to dream about work. One is that the CPD (Continuing Professional Development for those of us who hate acronyms, set-number-of- hours-study-per-year-to-make-sure-I -haven't-forgotten-all-I-know, to those of us who hate business speak) requirements of my career mean that I need to have done something before August to keep my hand in, and I have been preparing to do that. Another is that, having begun to write Neville in earnest I am remembering that old thrill that goes with hard work and with losing yourself in something. And finally it might just be that I needed only five months and not the whole year to rest before I started to have a genuine urge to work again.
All well and good. I have said before that I think it is good for human beings to work, to achieve and to apply themselves to something. During the Great Travelling Meltdown I spoke to a friend who was currently on maternity leave and who said she felt that a dip in self confidence often comes when you are not, at least to our societal definitions of it, 'doing anything'. Frankly I think bringing up a child is harder work than most careers, where you will almost certainly be able to have a cup of tea at some point in the day, and where your colleagues tend not to scream at you and cover the walls in poo. Except on a really bad day at the office.
But that aside, I agree. We get our confidence from work. It doesn't have to be the thing you are paid for, it could be a hobby, tending the garden, doing the housework, going for a run. The teachers, back at school when you got separate narks for 'effort' as opposed to 'result' had it bang on the money. It is the effort which does us good, not necessarily the result. If you plough a lot of energy into something which no one appreciates or thanks you for, yes you might feel a but jaded after the event, but it doesn't change the sense of satisfaction you got while you were doing it. Which proves the point about parenthood of course, arguably so thankless that there has to be a day in our calendar to remind everyone to appreciate it. I have never appreciated my parents' efforts so much as I have since my friends have had babies. But it is, at 35, rather a delayed reaction.
I am rambling a bit. What I am trying to say, and have said before, is that I really believe that your work should be something you put some heart into. Easier in some cases than others. But we can't all work for charities or causes close to our hearts. I am often uncomfortably aware that if my business succeeds it will make the rich richer. But it also gives a lot to charity. Equally we can't all chose to turn our hobbies into paying businesses. Some things just don't sell. Would I find it easier to put my heart into being a full time writer as opposed to an office professional? I don't honestly know. I think I work, primarily, for the people. And secondarily, for my own satisfaction. What the business is aiming at comes later. Is that bad? Tunnel visioned? Should I be buying, wholesale, into the 'company vision'? Its 'mission statement'? Does it matter? If I work hard and care about the result?
What I wake up with, ringing in my ears and following me into the shower, (though it gets a little sidetracked when I accidentally swallow some of the water - there is a strong whiff of drains in the showers here. Eau de eggs with undertones of 'matter'. You really don't want to be drinking it.) is one simple maxim. That if there is any relationship you put your heart into, it's the one with your work.
I'm off to write some Neville. And some blogs. With a side helping of The Companies Act 2006. You know, for the thrills.
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