Category Archives: Postcards 2023

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A postcard from home, about working from home

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I’ve done a fair bit of working from home recently, and from way before that, now I come to think of it. Most parents do, and for most people there is a lot of work to do at home even before you add in ‘working from home’. So, maybe we need to rephrase this issue as: ‘resting the workplace’.

There are plenty of angles to this debate, too many for a postcard, but here, as I see it, are some of the complications involved.

  • One – there are plenty who do not have a comfortable, or perhaps quiet, place to work ‘at home’, and would love to be employed away from the domestic space.
  • Two – there are many whose jobs mean that they cannot work from home.
  • Three – for the ambitious it can be important to be seen and known in person by their employers and colleagues, and going into work may be the most meaningful way of achieving this.
  • Four – the workplace can be socially important.
  • Five – for those with families, caring responsibilities, or pets that make ‘throughout-the-day’ demands on their time, it is easier to be based at home, especially if there is an appropriate work space.
  • Six – most commutes take time, cause stress, and cost money.
  • Seven – ‘work’ is being taken over increasingly by technology that can be used remotely (if humans are required at all).
  • Eight – ‘home’ often involves family and community, and for the lucky, green space, all of which, if time and the right effort are put into them, can benefit the well being of all of us.

To me it seems that the pros and cons of ‘working from home’ seem fairly balanced, so perhaps the time has come for ‘work’ to take ‘home’ more seriously – to allow ‘home’ more time, to show it more respect, and perhaps to borrow some of its ideas about green space and community.

Of course, nothing is as simple as a one person, postcard debate!

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

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A meal out in a town I barely know

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Recently, after a day helping with a house move, I spent a night in a bed and breakfast in Cheltenham. The meal out that evening felt essential – something to restore us, somewhere relaxed, with good food, not too expensive, and not too far away. A quick hunt online found me La Petite Brasserie, and a table for that Saturday night.

It was an easy walk to the restaurant, energised by the music and chat pumping out of the pubs, all bursting with customers. Everywhere felt busy and the mood upbeat.

La Petite Brasserie was tucked in amongst a neighbourhood of small businesses. I stepped inside having no idea what to expect. My first impression was correct – it was very full and there were no tables free. After a little discussion, and cheerful rearrangement, a table was found, and the house movers arrived.

We settled in for what proved to be a wonderful night of friendly service, delicious extras, and beautifully presented, tasty dishes of freshly-cooked food. My starter was a small cheese soufflé served on thin slices of juicy pear, followed by a main of four miniature portions of different vegetarian curries, each served with tiny poppadums and the best chapati I have had. The wine, an American pinot noir, fitted in perfectly.

Two and a half hours later, after an evening of real texture and character, we wandered fatly back towards our beds.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

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A late night drive into London

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Our drive into London this evening went smoothly, along quiet roads. The city looked beautiful and the weather was warm.

We stopped briefly at a petrol station before we crossed over the Thames. It was an hour before midnight and the staff were still in the shop, serving and cheerful. Just outside, not far from the entrance, a man sat on the ground, wrapped in blankets, homeless as a fly-tipped bundle.

On the other side of the river the traffic was mainly taxis and buses, parading slowly, at the required twenty-miles an hour towards the centre. We joined it, overtaken occasionally by the rattling engine of a delivery bike, or the hysterical siren of a blue lit police car – life from the real world, unzipping the city beneath.

As we swung along the river they were talking on the radio about the man released after 17 years of wrongful imprisonment, and the bill he would have to pay to cover the cost of his food and board during that time. It sounded all wrong, especially beside a river that looked so pretty at night, with the bridges lined up in both directions, their lights shining above the water.

Opposite Battersea Power Station, the almost-full moon hung, still as a picture, at the same height as the old station’s four pale towers. If it had been easy to stop we would have, but we were too tired and it was too late.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023