Future imperfect

My eyeballs are aching.

The xmas party last night overspilled into the Motion bar, and had me rolling home at around 4am, not getting to sleep for another hour, then getting up for work at 8am. I had a lucozade and some toast, but that gave me a burst of energy that lasted until 11am. At 11.01am the turbo lag kicked in and I was rendered almost useless. Today was not the day to be off form.

My boss decided to talk to me about my future at the Institute. Assuming we get the funding for this big project, she has offered me a post as Programme Director. I get a salary that's just under what I got in corporate (and damn good for the public sector), and I get to run a team of about 15 people - my way. That's the bit I like - MY WAY. After busting my bollocks working for the Man, and having to follow the intellectual inferiors, I could get a chance to play MY game. It's attractive as an offer, but I haven't committed to anything yet - and then I have the interview at the Cabinet Office next Tuesday, and who knows what that might throw up...

At the moment, however, I just want to get to the new year, head over to Mauritius in January and decide when I get back.