Today I made soup and picked up 11 shirts from the dry cleaners.  That sounds vaguely productive until you realise I didn’t get dressed until 1pm and even then it was reluctantly.

Working from home does require a certain level of something I find comes and goes with me. Discipline.  I started off very well… structuring my day around the 9-5pm routine. Now I find myself doing the odd hour on a Sunday, having an afternoon snooze then working until 7pm. It’s like I’ve become a student again.

The fact that the builders are in and there is a constant production of noise, shouting and dust doesn’t help my easily distracted nature.  In fact, I think I spend a lot of time looking for distractions so I’ve basically just invited the biggest most expensive series of interruptions into my office.

It does have it’s perk though. No commute, no early mornings, no make-up.  One of the things I love most about not going into the city everyday is no heels. I gave up the attempt to appear elegant and refined strolling to work in my heels. Turns out that results in falling down the stairs in the tube, tripping up the escalator crippling agony.

So I had to conform to the biggest fashion faux pas that I could conceive of.  Something I vowed I would never do.  I’m ashamed to say that I became one of those women who’s outfit for the office would consist of, pencil skirt, shirt, tights and TRAINERS.

Oh the shame!  But it was the choice between a coordinated outfit or a broken ankle.  Trainers are much easier to deal with on the underground than crutches.

Those days are gone and I’m spending my hours in suburbia chopping carrots in my slippers.  I think I always knew this day would come, I just didn’t expect it so soon.  To ensure I don’t slip slowly into oblivion as an anonymous housewife, I have to schedule in specific and intentional periods of childish/adolescent behaviour.  It’s often quite challenging when weekends are spent strolling round DFS discussing the ‘buy now pay later’ deals.  A ski trip has been booked to leave this weekend.  I think it’s almost impossible to go anywhere in altitude and it not result in debauchery.

We leave on Saturday. If I spend the week on the nursery slope, wearing a helmet and getting ‘early nights’ to make the most of the snow – then I know that I’ve fallen into the iron grips of maturity and there may be no escape!