I have just realised that today is a bit of an anniversary.
Ten years ago – the 24th of August, 2001 – was a Significant Day in my life.
It was on that day that I
was sacked left RTE for the very last time. I have been back in there once since then and that was just to sign something in the Credit Union. I think that alone indicates how much I miss the place?
It was the last day where I had to spend my time doing what someone else wanted me to do.
It was the last day where I ever had to grovel for a bit of time off that I was fully entitled to.
It was the last day where I ever had to feign a modicum of respect for complete wankers who were under the delusion that they could manage or supervise.
It was the very last day ever where my time was not my own to do whatever the fuck I wanted.
It was like the end of a thirty year sentence in gaol.
It wasn’t however the last time I ever had to sit in a stationary car staring at the car in front on that fucking Stillorgan Road. That particular pleasure happened the day before, as on my last day a friend drove me in. He reckoned that after the “do” in the Social Club that evening that I wouldn’t be fit to drive home.
It transpired that he was right.
The hospital wouldn’t release me until the following day.