My wife thinks I’m working but I’m actually on furlough – and loving it

TI’m never going to have this much time to myself until the day I retire

here’s nothing good about Covid19, but I’ve really enjoyed being at home for a year. Normally, I work long hours in a high-pressure job, so I didn’t see enough of my wife and kids or have time to relax properly. Now we laugh about me walking 12ft from the kitchen to our tiny study to work. Except what my wife doesn’t know is that I’m not working. I’ve been furloughed for nearly a year.

At the start of the first lockdown I actually was working from home. On the day that my CEO suggested I should be furloughed, my wife was having a bit of a work crisis. Then the youngest threw up everywhere, so I couldn’t find the right time to tell her. That night, I lay awake savouring what I could do with a few weeks to myself. I just decided not to tell anyone.

I had a week of trotting into the study to “work” and doing nothing apart from gazing at my computer, playing games, reading and planning a big keep fit programme. Then I started to feel a bit guilty, so I told her I’d been given the option of reducing my hours and I’d gone for it. I told her we could afford it and it meant I could help more with homeschooling. She was so pleased I was tempted to confess. But that urge soon disappeared.

In my defence I didn’t expect lockdown to go on for so long. I did homeschooling until 11 every morning and had a break with the kids until my wife took over half an hour later and I headed into my study. I’m halfway through a novel – writing, rather than reading one – and had six hours a day to fiddle around with that, read other books to get ideas or play about on the computer. Both of us exercised religiously and spent hours with the kids cooking, walking, cycling and playing in the garden. I felt better than I had in years, sleeping really well, enjoying all the family time. Honestly, I’ve never been such a fun guy to be around. My wife has said so a few times.

I did actually go back to work in the summer, going into the office just one day a week for six weeks and working from home the rest of the time. That was OK, especially as I had earned three weeks’ holiday – which I duly took. Then I was furloughed again, which gave me the chance to stop lying. I thought about it for a couple of days, but I couldn’t resist. I know I’m being totally selfish, but I’m never going to have an opportunity to have time to myself again like this until I retire, in 20 years’ time.

When I go back to work I’m planning to move on, so there’s no chance of anyone dropping me in it with my wife if work dinners ever start again. That move will inevitably mean more responsibility and longer hours.

So right now, I’m going to enjoy every minute of doing what I want, when I want. I think if I’d told my wife the truth in the first place, she’d have been quite relaxed, especially if I told her I wanted to use the time to write a book. But it’s too late now. As long as she doesn’t find out, I don’t have to justify myself. In any case, I’m not harming anyone. Am I?