Put up and shut up?

This may be more ruminating, so forgive me, but I am starting to wonder precisely how difficult I am making life for myself - about the job, I mean.

From one or two discussions I have had with other people in the hospital, it would appear that if I can hang on with the current job for another couple of months (three and a half, to be exact), then there is a more than reasonable chance that I may be able to find something else suitable within the hospital.

Coupled to that, there is a new chief executive arriving soon and systems of work are likely to change; there will be restructuring, new projects and some possibilities.  If I have managed to successfully identify/ingratiate myself to the right people by then, a move in the right direction might be possible.

This, effectively means that I could soon have more money for the same minuscule travelling that I am doing at the moment - subject to a suitable job becoming available, of course.  All I have to do is put up and shut up for a little while.

Yes, I’m bored. Yes, I could be doing something a lot more taxing, but if I can be devil’s advocate to myself for a minute, whatever happened to patience?  I am in grave danger of jumping out of the frying pan into the fire again if I don’t look where I am going.  I know that part of my desperate search for another job is a kneejerk reaction to bitter disappointment, but I have to think carefully about what I really want to do.

There is part of me that would quite like to have the opportunity to do something cushy that enables me to fill my time doing “other things”, like writing, planning, plotting and generally using the other half of my brain.  That, in essence, is what I had before, but the commuting was just so dreadful that I couldn’t have gone on with it.

A sad thing that I have noticed is that since I have been here (as opposed to being in Birmingham) that some of the opportunities I had have gone at the same time.  Whether it’s as a direct result of not being in the city any more, or just coincidence, I don’t know. 

The radio work has all but gone, apart from the occasional bit on hospital radio, but that seems to be significantly less than before.  I was on the verge of being able to get some casual work in “real” radio, but distance and the lack of availability of short-notice leave are making that pretty difficult, if not impossible.  I’m also not being asked to do so much football writing, which I guess is another consequence of not being on the spot.

Maybe the singing will increase proportionately; I have some modest hopes for that, but nothing is ever easy in this field.

I also have to find the impetus to write some more fiction.  The ideas seem to have dropped into a very low gear and as I often used to write during the day, I’m not able to work at the best time for the creative bit of my mind.  I’m not sure how to combat that at the moment.

It’s just about six months since I came here, abandoning my huge, beloved urban sprawl for a much smaller, ancient city.  It’s not been easy; I have felt (and still feel) desperately homesick at times.  It’s an odd place, quiet and parochial and I still feel that I am on the outside looking in as far as the “important” people are concerned.

That will remain the same for the forseeable future, I’m sure.