London. In which the Kitten is ironically, pointlessly, upgraded to an Executive Plus room (Plus what?) which she is enjoying in splendid, pristine and virginal isolation. Proving that her charms still work on hotel receptionists - although that appears to be as far as they stretch, nowadays.
Technically, I am still on holiday in Somerset (as you can see). Lightly interspersed with a bit of lecturing and a board meeting. Hell, I'd much rather facilitate a workshop on sourcing strategies than have a nice day in Somerset with my Terrible Tweenagers and my lovely friends. Wouldn't I? Ho hum. This hotel is the largest Holiday Inn in the world (wow!) but it still doesn't feel like a holiday. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough.
Being away from work for a few days has given me the space and time to stop worrying so much about work, and start worrying about other things instead. My writing, mainly. Who would have thought it would be this easy to find another whole field in which to feel like an impostor? So many new things to fail at. The world is truly my lobster.
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