24 Days

Subtract the weekends - and one Whitsuntide (historical factoid: coming 50 days after Easter, the word Whitsun comes from the Old English 'Hwita Sunnandæg', meaning 'White Sunday', in reference to the white robes worn by those baptised on the previous Easter) - and I have just four and twenty days left to work, and dear collegues, if you're ever to read this, while I can't (truthfully) say I'm sorry to be leaving, I shall certainly miss you. Ok, well, some of you. I'm sure you know who you are. On Wedesday I handed in my notice. Dang, actually, no, I haven't handed in my notice yet. Must remember to do that before I leave. On Wednesday then, I announced my intention to leave - and I have to say it did feel good! I actually did feel a little guilty, but to be fair to me, it was way overdue. And when even your own bosses are saying it's time you left, you know something's gone wrong somewhere along the way. The countdown has begun.