It's Mycroft's first day at work tomorrow. They're going to see how he gets on, and if he's happy to, he's going to work the weekend too, to help with the rush.
If he doesn't feel ready, he'll just work weekdays for now, starting before the lunch rush until they close. But I've a feeling he'll do fine.
He's got a little apron to wear, and a black waistcoat, white shirt, black trousers - looks very smart! He actually seems sad not to be wearing a tie though, odd boy :)
Obviously we're all thinking about the freebies...I mean, wishing him well.
Sherlock already wants to visit. Which has led to low-level bickering of the sort only siblings can manage to keep going for so long.
In the allotment, our beans are growing up, our tomatoes are shooting away now, and even our spring onions, which everyone doubted, seem to be doing okay.
Lettuce is just an ongoing battle.
Work is really eating at me at the moment. I can't tell you all anything about the op, but...it's not much fun. And although I'm happy that I'm the right person to run the op, and when we catch the guy, it will be very much for the good, I'm not enjoying it.
When I was younger, people used to call me a 'pretty boy'. And I can't pretend I didn't use that, sometimes, to my advantage. But I definitely grew to hate it, too. What it was used as shorthand for. And when I joined the force, it changed, but people still thought I was younger, less experienced, than I was. People didn't take me seriously, I guess it boiled down to. Everyone always says coppers are getting younger, so I suppose having a young face didn't help. Didn't help with my confidence either, at first, especially with my background. Like I said to DW the other day, I felt like a fraud, for many reasons - my background, my sexuality, some of my ... thoughts on the people we locked up, the people we dealt with. Of course, when everyone's on refs talking about the scum down the local estate, the slag who's been sexually assaulted by the drunk boyfriend, you don't get to fight back, to say it could have been any one of us, because that's not how it works.
Of course now, now I'm more comfortable in my own skin, now I have the rank, I can speak up, and I do. And maybe sometimes that's the only way you can win the battles, by doing what you can, when you can, and accepting there are some fights it's not worth picking.
There were definitely times I thought I was in the wrong place. But I suppose whenever I really thought about anything else I could be doing, I just knew this was where I should be. And I knew I would never forgive myself if I gave it up. But it could easily have been the other way - knowing it wasn't right, and setting out on a new path.
Anyway, didn't quite mean to get sidetracked by all that. And now Sherlock is hanging off me wanting fruit with ice cream and John is trying to untie a knot in Maf's favourite fishy toy whilst she valiantly tries to kill it.
And here's a page John showed me earlier, to cheer me up. Can't believe the cheek of the florist though!! They must read this blog ;)