I don’t want to go to Wigan. I don’t want to carry on blogging this nonsense. I’m going to give it all up …
“Dear Bernard, I’ve finally done it. I’ve finally escaped the clutches of this soul sapping job” No make that “vampiric nightmare of a job that has sucked me dry of energy, creativity and the will to live.”
Ahh…let’s start this over…
“Dear Bernard, It’s hard to write this after having such a fulfilling 12 years working here. I’ve become part of the furniture and its time for a make over. If CHANGING ROOMS has taught us anything, it’s that a ‘throw over’ will only spruce up an old settee for a short period of time and that the time comes for a new one. Its time for this comfy old armchair to move on…”
Nah. No … corny, too corny for my taste, I mean, let me try and make it more profound.
“Dear Bernard, There comes a point in everybody’s life were they need to develop, move on and leave the stability of the place were they have been nurtured. Like a newborn making its first tentative steps I am going to stand on my own two feet …”
No, it’s going to be too preachy. I mean, you know … let’s face it; I want to hand in my notice here …
“Dear Bernard, I hope that you see this as a wake up call. People are dissatisfied with the work they have to do here. There is too much surveillance and not enough vision from …”
Too angry … I don’t want to be angry.
“Dear Bernard, Please accept this letter as my resignation. Thanks for all your support and encouragement. Yours sincerely.”