The Wake-up Call

These nights all my dreams are wake-up calls. Complex scenarios whose message I interpret as needing to have a piss, pee or wee , don't know what to call it to myself. I've just woken up from one. I was an employee, but didn't know what I was expected to do, didn't even stop to think I should have a clear reporting line, terms of reference, somewhere to sit, salary structure or anything.

I told one or two colleagues about my predicament. "I hate working here, but I can't afford not to. It's my only chance at my age. They were sympathetic.

No need to elaborate further. Now in real life I realize the significance of this, that I need to be challenged and stretched but be my own boss and fulfil a positive "dream" in the ambition sense.

I just drafted the above using Word Microsoft365, a pay-as-you-go version of the original. It comes with Excel and so forth. Do I really need these things? Well, OK: K & I can afford to spend £60 a year on the whole package, just we spend £60 on the Telegraph cryptic crossword. But it pisses me off. I'd sooner use Blogger. 

So here we are.