Just in case you didn’t know 🙂 it’s International Nurses Day, on the birthday of that old favourite Florence Nightingale.
David Cameron and many others have pledged their support
I wonder if any of them would like to come and work with us for a day?
My husband has a colleague who keeps complaining to him (he is her boss) that despite all her hard work she is getting nowhere in her career. My husband is sympathetic, but points out that times are hard, especially in their field, and he can’t help her any more than he is already doing.
I suggest, that with her working full-time, spending three hours a day commuting, as well as having a baby, she is probably worn-out, guilty and depressed and wonders why she bothers. I say, she should go part-time, and take the opportunity to spend time with her baby.
He says my thinking is out-of-date.
Yet, how wise is it really to expect to carry on full-steam in your career when you have small children? Yes, many families really need two full-time wages to make ends meet. Yet a few decades ago that was not the case. Isn’t it more that our expectations have increased, both personally, in what constitutes a reasonable standard of living, and collectively, in the idea that having small children should be no impediment to getting on with life as normal?
What is important about a career? Is it about improving one’s status? Getting more money? To what end? To enjoy life better? The satisfaction that you are contributing something to the world? Do you need to keep climbing the career ladder to feel that?
When lying on our deathbeds, what regrets will we have? That we never made it big-time? That we could never call ourselves heroes or heroines? Or that we didn’t spend more time with our children?
I wonder who came up with the idea that Sunday isn’t Sunday without a full roast for lunch.
It’s Sunday! Day of rest! So let’s spend half of it preparing a huge meal that we don’t really need, and the other half dealing with the unholy amount of washing up that such a meal generates.
Spousal unit does the roast, and then floops about in ostentatious exhaustion. That effing roast would need way more trimmings to match up to the twenty other meals I cook during the week, mate.