Pot banging

It is both a ‘wondrous job and a destroyer of souls’, said my colleague Abi, somewhat tongue-in-cheek, when we talked about well-being, balance and positive thinking when faced with a heavy workload. It was very enriching to absorb her wisdom and experiences about how to be more forgiving on oneself for failing on the to-do list and for not being able to tackle certain things.

During my sanity walk I had to dust off my Portuguese skills as Ana called me from Maputo. She used WhatsApp, which she had told me she didn’t have, and which would have been useful for communication many moons ago. It was excellent to establish an easy way of connecting whilst I’m here. The Portuguese hasn’t totally ebbed away. Ana confirmed my apartment is surviving, and that she expected me back in the coming weeks. I don’t think that’s looking likely so soon, amiga.

As I was looping back towards the house after my evening walk, I was on the large Elizabeth Bridge over the River Cam when the clock struck 8pm. A cacophony of pots, pans, claps and fireworks rang out, and people came out of their riverside homes to applaud on the pavement.