The first day of the rest of my life

IWOKE up early on the first day of the rest of my life. I was hungover. The previous night’s leaving drinks had been the culmination of two weeks of high emotion. But it had been good closure. I was leaving on good terms. I had certain things I wanted to get off my chest, various things I wanted to say to various people. And it was all done. I cringed a little with a bit of an emotional hangover, by which I mean a hangover from the binge of emotion I got caught up in.

Then I panicked for a minute. Surely there was somewhere I was meant to be? Something

I was meant to be alert for. A deadline. But there wasn’t really. It was the weekend. The new job was cranking up but hadn’t started in earnest yet. There was an article to be tidied up later on. For now, there was a moment of freedom that should have felt exhilarating. But of course it didn’t. Like an animal released from a zoo out into the wild, I was unsure what to do with myself. I needed a new routine. I needed to self-motivate now. I needed to put in place a structure, to keep me sane.

I had a dummy week with no radio show, to start getting ready and to figure out what my routine would be, and then I would be into it for real, working partly from home, off but not really off on Mondays. To keep the panic in abeyance, I read all the papers. Keeping up, keeping up with things. Keeping on top of everything. The rest of the family were going out for much of the day. You stay here. Relax, they said. Enjoy it. Were they nuts?

There were a few pieces in the papers about a new book on Kraftwerk so I listened to some

Kraftwerk out loud for a while. But that didn’t qualify as doing something. I called a friend and arranged to meet her for a swim out at the sea. Purpose. Somewhere to be, someone relying on me to be there. I had to be there. A reason to move in some particular direction, to prevent paralysis. A narrative, a story for me to follow. I was going to the sea. I didn’t want to go but it would be good for me. Might take the edge off.

It did a bit. The sea, people will tell you, is like a reset.

And when it’s this cold it resets everything, even resetting your junk back up into your body. And I did come out purified and rebooted in some way. It was a full stop. Two weeks of looking back. Time to look forward now, and get excited about the next thing. BE EXCITED! WHY AREN’T YOU EXCITED?

Of course I will look back on the week just gone and say ‘Why didn’t I just relax and enjoy myself ?’. It was a pause between the two chapters. But I needed to get my affairs in order, get some stuff set up, and practise for this strange new life. Apparently I need to make sure I take time off in the week. The temptation can be to not take any breaks.

She has restrained herself from saying it so far, but I suspect I am driving my wife crazy, pacing around like a madman. I can see a smile flicker on her face whenever I’m heading out. She actually said one time: “Will that be a long meeting?”

For want of a project, I watched this dodgy documentary on Netflix called The Magic Pill. I’d take some of it with a pinch of salt, but the key message I took from it is that we would all be better off if we ate real food and fewer food-like substances. So I’m like the food police. I’m claiming not to be forcing anyone else to do it, but seeing as I’m around, I can’t help watching... and commenting. In fairness the others in my house eat fairly well. I probably eat more processed crap than any of them. But I’m a new man now. As the week goes on I realise they are secretly eating stuff behind my back, just the odd snack that doesn’t conform to the rules. I can’t blame them, considering that,

“Is that real yogurt?” is now one of my catchphrases. “It’s a lovely day. Why don’t you go out for a walk?” becomes everyone else’s catchphrase.

I’m calming down. I’ll get into it. And I’ll get properly busy next week.

As long as we don’t get divorced before then, things will be fine.