I never really thought of summer as a claustrophobic phenomenon. In the UK (ah, “in the UK”, one of those phrases I’ve been using so often that it’s no wonder people refer to their ancestral homelands as “the old country”), summer is a few balmy days, a lot of gloomy ones, and maybe a heatwave or two where everyone goes to the park. Here, the heat is oppressive when the sun is at its highest, and you find yourself retreating indoors to the comfort of air conditioning.
I’m a couple of weeks into the new job. Already, the rhythms of it are becoming second nature. It’s funny how easily we assimilate actions that don’t come naturally. The more I start jobs - and this will be my fourth - the more I don’t feel quite as nervous on my first day, because I know that everyone’s making it up as they go along when they first start.
I don’t know how long I’ll be working there. Probably at least a few months. The future looks uncertain, but by entering employment I’m keeping myself busy, staving off the cabin fever that can come from sitting in the same room. I am, by my nature, a fairly solitary person - but I still need regular shots of diverse interaction to keep myself sane. Working - even if it is working hard - helps with all of that. My legs are becoming stronger. I am ignoring the heat, and starting to break the walls.