Locum Notion

"Come back," texted McColleague. "I'm bored".

"Aw," I replied. "I'll be back soon and will entertain you with all my holiday snaps!"

It is most gratifying to know I have been missed during my absence. I'd left a locum in my stead, in the hope most of the staff and volunteers wouldn't notice I'd gone, but McColleague, of course, can not be fooled.

"Been ok but not the same without you," her latest missive reads, "lots to tell."

Lordy. As soon as I'm back up to speed I'll copy you all in!

A Change of Pace

Today I have been in the company of my 20 month old soon-to-be-godchild. All my dealings with staff and volunteers today were conducted with a littl'un balanced on one hip, or sat on my lap bashing away quite happily at the computer keyboard.

We went on an adventure through the orchards, across the meadows and down to the brook. We climbed up molehills and peered under bridges for trolls. We squeezed into Snow White's dwarf-sized cottage and spread out on the giant chess board.

We ate ice cream and strawberries and had chocolate smiles and sticky fingers. There was talk of poo and bogies.

It was so nice to spend the day with someone completely on my intellectual level for once.

Time Off

I am taking a couple of days in lieu this week, seeing as though I worked a six day week, including two bank holidays, over Easter.

So far on my day off I have:

• Organised volunteer cover for tomorrow.
• Bought cake and biscuits for the volunteers.
• Brought through their cups, milk, kettle etc.
• Completed the end of week returns and faxed them to regional office.
• Banked the takings.
• Bought a new ink cartridge for the printer.
• Got change for the tea room.
• Sorted out the floats for tomorrow.
• Washed up all the volunteers cups and plates.

But by far the most bizarre interruption of my day off was from McColleague. I was sat in my living room, sketching, when I heard her call from outside the door.

"Doris! Do you know where (something something) is?"

"What?" I put down my sketch book and pencil and opened the door. "Do I know where the what is?"

I stopped short. McColleague was stood there with our young volunteer. Both had tiny ducklings clutched in each hand. "Peep!" said the ducklings.

"Do you know where the mother duck is?" repeated McColleague.

"Um...no...she's not in here with me, anyway." I was confused. Why were my colleagues outside my living room, holding tiny fuzzy ducklings at me?

"We found these all by themselves near the chapel, and there was no mother duck anywhere near. I was afraid they were going to get run over by the builder's van. We've walked right round the moat but not found the mother duck."

"Could be on mini-moat," I ventured, "or the slurry pit."

Eventually we did track down mother duck, with the rest of her brood, on mini-moat. The tiny, peeping ducklings were set down carefully by the water's edge, and mother duck immediately took off to the other side of the moat. She is a bad mother duck. Shirking her responsibilities like that. After we backed off and some time had passed she finally accepted them back into her brood. A happy ending! I returned to the house and attempted to resume my sketching.

Tomorrow I am going to go out.

Time Out Take Two

I am planning another escape.

I shall be visiting my parents for a couple of days, so expect a brief hiatus in postings and comments management.

And much like my last Time Out, I have already been sucked back into work mode this morning. There I am, first thing, stood at the kitchen sink, when my doorbell rings, long and loud. It turns out to be a would-be volunteer, returning their registration form.

"A lovely young man said I could find you here," she said.

What lovely young man? I scanned the area behind her. Hah! A builder's van. The work has obviously begun on the Courtyard Interpretation Project (new display boards, to you and me). They have just as obviously left the gates wide open, hence my potential volunteer finding her way in. It's an ongoing problem. I know it's a pain in the arse, having to keep climbing in and out of your vehicle to open and close the gates. I know better than most, having to do it many, many times a day. But it's far more of a pain to have to keep chucking people out.

Still, I don't have to worry about that for a day or two. It's Somebody Elses Problem. Hurrah!

See you Friday!

Time Out

I had a day off today. It was lovely. I actually left the estate and everything.

Before I went out I decided to take the dog for a circuit of the moat, so he would be happier for the rest of the day. I spotted the Learning Officer and her volunteer in the distance and waved, cheerily, but kept moving so I wouldn't get sucked into worky stuff on this, my glorious day off. Cars began to arrive on site and I began to walk a little faster. Inevitably one drew up alongside me, the window rolled down, and a voice emerged.

"Hello! I've got all the lunch boxes for the school visit today. Where can I leave them?"

I indicated where she should go and raced the dog back to the house. It was now or never. If I didn't leave immediately I was sure to be involved somehow. I could sense my presence had been detected and I could almost hear the first cries of "Dor-is! I know it's your day off, but..."

I locked the dog in the house, leapt into the car and accelerated away, The Professionals-stylie.

Blessed freedom. Sweet liberty. I must do more of this "day off" stuff.

The Great Escape

The thaw is almost complete and the world has become a soggier, boggier place.

The snow has caused almost as much arboreal damage as the storms in January. The drive down to the house is a rollercoaster ride of twists and turns, with fallen trees partially obscuring the road in many places, with others leaning over the track at ominous 45 degree angles. Branches scrape against the roof and windscreen of the car as I carefully weave my way between the foliage. Bastardly hazardous trees. I comfort myself with the knowledge that todays dangerous tree is tomorrows firewood.

It is not a smooth journey, but I make it. Finally, I am off the estate for the first time in four days. I am giddy with excitement. The world is big, colourful, busy. What shall I do? Where shall I go? How shall I celebrate my newfound freedom? I go mad and visit the library. In a frenzy of unrestrained travel-lust I go to the supermarket too. It is everything I dreamed of, and more.