There's a dead giveaway for when I'm under stress - my skin.
For the last three weeks I've been under threat at work. At the age of 44 if I get dismissed for failing to meet targets, for whatever reason, then things are not good. Notice the typical English flair for understatement there? I've ticked all the boxes for the last three weeks while my skin has got gradually drier, I've got steadily spottier and spent more and more time clawing at my hands and arms.
No more. I am better than that and I have plans. This shit ends.
Because I will have it so.
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