Why I'd never be able to return to full-time job

The low point came at 7am one December morning. It was sub-zero outside, and the gate outside my house had frozen shut, which meant I needed to throw my backpack over the top and climb over — and do it quickly because I was already running late for my 7am start. Bag successfully launched onto the street, I began my ascent, instantly regretting the decision to wear a skirt.

- Olivia Petter, The Independent

Of course, I got stuck. Then my tights caught on a splinter, and by the time I'd wrangled my way down the other side, they'd laddered all the way up my legs. When I finally reached the Tube, I bought myself a large Americano to drink en route. Somewhere between Finchley Central and Notting Hill Gate, most of it had spilled onto my top (white, inevitably). This is just a snapshot of my past life as an office worker — coffee spillages were a recurrence. Other vignettes include being made fun of for my sad, stinky packed lunches, forgoing underwear in the afternoons because I'd once again forgotten to pack clean knickers to wear after the gym, and falling asleep outside the pub after otherwise unmemorable work drinks. One morning, locked out to work after having unexpectedly spent the night elsewhere (Hinge date), and after quickly realizing my backless dress wasn't appropriate workwear, was forced to spend the day in a giant Jeremy Corbyn Christmas jumper I'd found under my desk. It was April.