Things are a bit strange at work at the moment. It’s like being in some kind of state of neither here nor there.
Most people know I’m retiring fairly soon & just about everyone asks me how long I’ve got to go. Whilst I know how many working days I have & how many official employed days, I don’t have a clue how many hours, minutes or seconds that is which seems to surprise some people.
Mind you, they’re not as surprised as when they find out I’m coming back. There are very few, if any, who enjoy working in the control room as much as they did a year or two ago; things have changed so much in such a short time.
I think people expect me to retire & go off & play golf or travel the world. Sadly, real life is somewhat different, whilst that may have been possible with a grown up family, it’s not with a couple of budding university students. At the last count it was about 9 grand a year to get through uni & whilst I like the idea of my kids having to grow up pretty quickly & develop a sense of responsibility with money, I don’t think it’s fair to saddle them with a Ã‚Â£27 grand debt by the time they come out the other side (& that’s if they only do 3 years).
A lot of my colleagues have come back over the years, however, I will not be doing what some of them do & that’s walking out as a police officer on the Friday & returning as a civvy on the Monday. I’ll have a few weeks to chill out.
So people can’t understand my need to come back. The usual response when I say I am is words along the lines of “You’re fucking joking”.
Sometimes I wish I was, still the extra money will be nice. By the time I pay off my debts & taking into account I’ll be in the 40 per cent tax bracket, we reckon we’ll have about Ã‚Â£1,000 of disposable income per month more than we’re getting now.
At that rate I reckon I can put the pipe & slippers on hold for a few years.