Fired!
Can you believe it?! Fired! Those ungrateful pups at the infirmary just fired me as soon as I got off the ship. I told Them “I was on that ship with full permission and order by you bloody lot!” and They told me they didn’t appreciate my tone and that I should calm down. They went on to explain They were letting me go because I simply took too much time off to go traipsing around the country with a band of… ragamuffins (they carefully chose that word).
Oh I showed them calm! I hurled a couple of vases in the head Matrons direction (I admit maybe that was a little too much but I had taken some whiskey this morning to sooth my spot of seasickness) and stormed over to my office, packed up, and shoved off like they wanted me to!
I don’t think I fully comprehended the damage done by losing my position as Secondary Matron right then; otherwise I might have dropped to my knees and begged Them not to fire me. 
I sit by my table in the cottage here, writing this and pondering away the day: ‘What in heavens name is going to happen to me now?’ ‘Where shall I go?’ ‘Will I survive?’ (That last one was a tad too dramatic) and other such woefully depressing thoughts.
“I suppose,” I say aloud to myself, “I could move back into the Shack.” But I wouldn’t like to trouble Red Un and everyone - even it was better and much more exiting and homely (except for the piles of dust and unwashed dishes. I’m stumped to think how a couple of people can make such a mess).
I know! Aha, Hester you genius! I’ll write to them and ask if it’s okay! Oh and I can pull the caravan out from behind the shed , load it up with the junk that I call furniture and wobbled my way - led by the donkeys - to the Shack.
1 comment:
The picture is my cottage on the mountainside.
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