I used to write a newsletter.
I guess I still do. Just not recently. Last year, post-pandemic, I count seven editions. This year we have a grand total of one.Â
For a â€˜weeklyâ€™ publication, thatâ€™s not exactly regular.
March 23rd, 2020. We all know and remember thatâ€™s when the UK went into lockdown. Since then Iâ€™ve been back into the office I think five times? Twice for a shoot, once for a pitch, then twice to see (and in some cases, meet for the first time) my team.
I do not miss the commute. I know I am not alone in this, not by any stretch. The benefits of working from home (higher productivity, deep work) far outweigh those of being in the office every day (commute, open-plan offices) – I canâ€™t ever imagine going back to the â€˜oldâ€™ normal ever again.
Being able to close my laptop at 6pm, immediately cuddle my children, start [a proper] dinner, and generally enjoy an evening at home with the family; that holds immense value for me.
But of course, that benefit comes at a cost: the 90-120mins a day of â€˜deadâ€™ time on the train/tube/walk of a commute mind, thatâ€™s where I did the thinking. The reading. The mental drafting and percolating of words, thoughts, and provocations that would ultimately wind up in an edition of Five Things on Friday.
And thatâ€™s gone now.
Not for good. But itâ€™s telling that having travelled to and from the office twice over the past fortnight, there are words available at the end of these fingers once more.
I know I’m one of the lucky ones.
Throughout all this I’ve kept my job, the roof over my head, and – frankly – my life.
But today, today I’m allowing myself to miss writing.
Because I do.
I am in no rush to return to the office. But when I do (at least part-time) then maybe the words will return with it.