I wasn't going to write anything today, given that I blogged three times yesterday. Then the head of the department told me I had a miserable face.
Alright, he didn't say that exactly. What he did say was:
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine," I said, reaching for a mug from the cupboard.
"It's just that you always seem like you're a little... down."
"Oh no, I'm..."
"That's just his normal face!" said someone else, breaking into fits of laughter as though no-one in the world had ever made that exact joke. This is the power of kitchen-chit-chat - it turns all those cliché things you've all heard a thousand times, into witty rapport that's mysteriously and suddenly hilarious.
"I'm fine," I said, smiling. Inside of course, I was deeply paranoid about going round the office with a worried look on my face as though I've got no idea what's going on. The little calculator in my brain clicked through the options and told me that that's not the kind of thing you say to the head of your department.
Actually, I'm really alright. To be honest, I'm happier than I've been for a long time and I am a person with a bit of a history of recurring lows. Whether my face shows it or not, the balloon is inflated.
Ironically, his concern about my perplexed expression felt a bit like being prodded with a drawing pin - which of course was the opposite of his intention. I'm not going to let it get to me.
Perhaps in an effort to cheer me up, they're sending me (and a few other people) on a two-day conference in Cornwall tomorrow.
I think the sea air might do me some good.
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