Recursive Words

I remember reading a blog written by an “Auttomatician” years ago – a wonderful lady that worked for Automattic as one of the WordPress “Happiness Engineers”. She often told stories about the experience of working from home, and I wondered what it might be like. If you didn’t know, Automattic don’t have a “place” – they were one of the first companies to prove that you didn’t need one – working from home was their normal.

Of course then the pandemic happened, and many of us got to find out exactly what working from home was like. I never stopped. The company I worked for at the time realised how much money they could save, and sold the office. We then got acquired by a much bigger company where “working from anywhere” had become their normal too.

I don’t know why I’m being so careful not to expose who I work for – you can head to LinkedIn and find out easily enough. Actually – that might be quite funny. If you’re on LinkedIn, go search for me and connect – leave me some good feedback – I’ll reciprocate. It will infuriate those that obsess over such things. Who are these people he suddenly knows? Where did they come from? How does he know them?

I really don’t like what LinkedIn has become. Most companies have taken ownership of their staff’s LinkedIn profiles. One day, when I retire, perhaps I’ll set about going rogue – fighting against the torrent of performative commercial slop with a diary of an ex-techie.

Maybe I’m just becoming a bit too cynical about it all.

There is a point to tilting at the working-from-home windmills today – or rather there was before I slide into an anti-social-media rant. One of the down-sides of working from home, and having a chaotic home life too, is that you rarely leave the hamster-wheel house any more. Just this week myself and my other half were both talking about joining the gym in town – purely to have an hour every other day away from the mayhem.

And finally the point of the post. I’ve escaped!

I’m sitting in ‘spoons this morning, nursing the leftovers of a cappuccino. As wonderful as it has been to sit on my own, eat a cooked breakfast that I don’t have to either cook or wash-up and empty my head into the laptop for a few minutes, I fear my time here might already be coming to an end. When I arrived perhaps three quarters of an hour ago the place was remarkably empty – and then peak Saturday morning rush unfolded around me. Families are arriving en-masse and starting a fight over tables and chairs. I’m half expecting to see a Jack Nicholson character standing over a table somewhere soon (love “As Good as it Gets”).

Isn’t serendipity wonderful. Lana del Rey has just started singing in my ears. The perfect soundtrack to a weekend that will very probably hurtle into the ditch in the next few hours.

Anyway.

At least I had this hour.

My next destination? The book shop, the card shop, and the florist. It’s my other half’s birthday tomorrow. She often gets taken for granted by the kids – we both do – so I’m leaning into the weekend a bit more than usual. We’re going out for lunch together tomorrow, and then to a show in the evening. Henning Wehn at Wycombe tomorrow night – she got me the tickets for my birthday, so we could go – kind of a joint present. I’m looking forward to it.

Right… this place is descending into madness. I’m going to post this, and will hopefully catch up later in the weekend with tales of cutting the lawn, going running, and surviving the apocalypse.