So they didn’t make me redundant, and I didn’t get a lump sum, and we aren’t starting a business.

Wanting to leave the HoC, and us wanting to start Cafe Waltshaw are actually two different things and would exist independently of each other, however today was slap-bang in the middle of the overlap.

Today is a nadir and I feel many things which I shall verbally vomit onto this blog as a way of drawing a line under at least some of them. Feel free to look away, it’s not very good.

Stupid. For thinking this might actually have happened.

Exhausted. The build up for this has been so long, and because it was presented as a possibility for me, we had to treat that seriously and make plans so in the eventuality we could hit the ground running. That hope, anticipation and tension has been truly draining.

Angry. I have been angry with the House of Commons for such a long time, but this has raised a new peak in my contempt. Not because I didn’t get what I want, but because they have made me feel so desperate to leave. I am also pretty fucked off about some of the people who I have heard did get redundancy, and the money that has cost and the signal that has sent out. I could go on about this, but that’s dull.

Sad.

Bored. At the thought of staying there and putting up with more shit.

Tired. As in, physically weary. I went to college tonight and did the prep for a St Patrick’s day meal tomorrow. Peeling 20lb of potatoes was strangely therapeutic though. I also have shedloads of work to do and I feel a bit like I’m running on an oily rag.

Humble. There are a lot of people who are being made redundant at the moment who do not want to be, and that can be devastating for them and their families. It’s pretty shitty out there at the moment and I don’t want to appear flippant about this.

Lucky. I have the best wife, which is what all of this is about in the first place. I also have the best friends, and I have really appreciated your solidarity (and enjoyed your expletives and profanities on my behalf. I am proud of your potty mouths.)

Proud. For even trying this, and also for getting home before crying today.

Determined. Having this possibility dangled in front of us has galvanised our resolve. I couldn’t be more sure about what we want to do and that we will make it happen. Unfortunately this will always involve relying on the decisions of other people, on account of us not being rich. Ironically part of the appeal of Cafe Waltshaw is not being the subject of managers et al, but in the start-up process we will have to jump through hoops. It’s no great surprise this decision didn’t go our way, but there will be other hoops to jump through, let’s just hope they aren’t all flaming and keep moving.

That’s enough of the self-indulgent bollocks, I’m not really one for emotional internet content and it doesn’t suit me.

Next time, pickles fans, I will be discussing which recipes are best for bribing bank managers.

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