As Philip Larkin asked in his poem 'Toads', "Why should I let the toad work Squat on my life?" Right now, a big fat toad of work is squatting on my shoulders. And if there's one thing I know, work toads can be a bugger to shift. Just ask anyone these days and they'll tell you how busy they are, how they need a break, and how they can't believe it's the end of February already.
And why has the toad come to squat? Money. That's the simple answer. It always is. Oh I know that sociologists and psychologists and doctors and even career counsellors, of whom I am one, are all too ready to tell us that work is good for us. It keeps us healthy - that is if we don't work in a country with poor workplace regulations or in industry where death and disease are all too prevalent; it keeps us sane - well, that's debatable as I'm sure you'll agree if you've ever watched 'Yes Minister' or 'The Office'; it keeps us optimistic - I guess it does, as there are worse things in the world than working, like riding a bike, for example...
Or not riding it, as is the case right now. You see I've got so many things to do, like training and shopping and going to the gym and swimming and experiments and none of them are getting done on account of the toad. I'm placing full blame on the toad. That's fair isn't it? Should I look elsewhere, I hear you ask. Perhaps at the end of Larkin's poem? "For something sufficiently toad-like Squats in me, too;" Surely not!
