Sometimes, there is not much I wouldn’t give to be teletransported back 20 years or more and to have a pile of copy or audio typing a mile high to do in some office in Swindon: some nice mindless production work that I wouldn’t have to give a second thought to when I got home.
Of course I would become bored with the typing and Swindon too, as I did before, but having a lot of projects on the go can start to feel a bit stressful in my head, at times. Taking on too much, or having unrealistic expectations of myself (something I think of as going into Master of Time and the Universe mode) is partly a genetic trait that I stand helpless in the face of.
My whole family work too hard if you ask me…
Recently I asked my father about how he runs big projects consecutively. This is the man who has barcoded the NHS blood banks, the employees at British Airways and the merchandise at Selfridges. He is currently matching sticks of dynamite to fuses somewhere in the Camargue with RFID, or something. His answer cut across the question.
‘I find three is too many’ he said.
I had a quick tally up this morning: I have four.
No wonder I feel like Dick Turpin is standing over me when I wake up every day.