On 17 March 2011 I left the Civil Service for early retirement after 25 years and four months. Technically I remain employed until 31 March, but I had to use up remaining annual leave before I went. The Scottish Government were keen to post blogs from all the leavers who are going over the next few months. Its reckoned around 6-700 people will have gone by the end of June - seroius numbers in hard times. Not many actually supplied a blog but as usual I couldn't resist. Here's what I posted.
"I joined the Civil Service in 1985, initially working for the MoD in a military records office, bizarrely located in an old Jesuit Mission in darkest Hastings. A suitably surreal start to what has often been a surreal career! It was a detached duty posting, eventually relocating to Brown St in Glasgow, just opposite where the Europa Building is now. It was mostly run by bufty-blazer retired majors who hadn't a clue how to deal with civilians and thought we should all be shot for not shaving in the morning; but I primarily remember it as a riotous social affair, with 50-odd people from the Glasgow area all congregated in the one town and determined to leave an impression. I remember once calculating with a mate that we were averaging about 70 pints a week each down there. Just as well it was only for a year!
"I eventually decided to try my luck in London and ended up in a MoD statistics department in Holborn, where I was greeted on my first day by a bloke of about 19 in pipe and slippers (literally) who told me to keep quiet as my boss was sound asleep at her desk (she was too, face down and snoring her head off). Reminds me that one of the great strengths of the civil service, though it often doesn't know it, is its ingrained quirkiness, eccentricity and quiet sense of rebellion.
"Basically, 5 years in London was another blizzard of drink, womanising and curious encounters. Friday sessions used to start at lunchtime in a pub called the 3 Cups. Our cue to eventually repair back to the office came when the Head Statistician, who spent his Friday lunchtimes going round the fruit machines in all the nearby bars, finished up in ours at about 3pm. A couple of hours back at the office sleeping it off were then followed by the main boozing session which would run until the last trains left Charing Cross at midnight. We would invariably lapse into unconsciousness and end up miles beyond our stops. One guy from Hayward's Heath used to wake up every weekend in Brighton and just sleep on a station bench until daylight and the bracing sea air woke him up again.
"Occasionally we wouldn't make it home at all. One particular evening involving a gothic pile in Hampstead, a schizophrenic host, a deranged father locked in an upstairs bedroom and the desperate defence of improvised barricades in a basement games room will never be forgotten. It was like Jane Eyre with pool cues.
"Eventually I ended up in MOD communications out at Earls Court; where among other things I production-managed the publication of technical guidelines to the specifications of fixed-wing aircraft. Ah, the page-turning excitement of it all; nearly as bad as labouring through a Dan Brown novel. Just as well they had all those Australian bars nearby.
"At some point in 1991, and for the life of me I can't really remember why, I ended up in Edinburgh working for the Scottish Office, where, given a corporate name change or fifty, I've been working ever since.
"I started in the old Information Directorate, as it was called then, initially doing Royal Visit press arrangements. What a funny old job that was, dealing half the time with Palace bigwigs and Dowager Duchesses of This and That and the other half dealing with pushy visitees getting into an unnecessary flap about the whole thing and wanting to freshly paint entire towns because Prince Edward was dropping in for five minutes.
"Fascinating days though - the high watermark of the Diana and Fergie era and the whole tabloid circus that came with them. Stories abound but my favourite has to be the day Prince Charles crashed his plane while visiting the Laphroig Distillery in Islay. As soon as the story broke the island was infested with chartered helicopters carrying red-top hacks buzzing in to get a scoop. The place looked like the attack scene from Apocalypse Now - the only things missing were Wagner and surf boards. And there was me, the only press officer in town, still hungover from my night of hospitality with the hosts, trying to marshal it all like Gary Cooper in High Noon.
"After that I ended up in the ministerial press office, where for some reason I always seemed to be working the local government desk and always seemed to be dealing with the happenings of Monklands District Council (I'm from Coatbridge, which didn't help). Those were also intriguing days. I joined just when the whole culture of government communication was moving away from the rather formal dissemination of information into the frontline guerrilla warfare it quickly metamorphosised into. Rising profiles inevitably led to rising pressures and stresses and, after a slow start, an impressive after-hours drinking culture led to another colourful era of misadventures, strange happenings, unlikely relationships and the kind of early-morning recollections that have you pulling the duvet cover up over your head and curling into the foetal position. That's if you even got home - one morning I woke up in the cabin of a Russian factory ship down at Leith docks. Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately?) I managed to get off before we steamed into the chilly North Atlantic.
"As older colleagues may remember, my press office days ended in 'controversial circumstances' around the time of the millennium and I ended up (semi-banished?) to Saughton House and Estate Services. This turned out to be more fun and interesting than I thought; you never realise how possessive civil servants get about their rooms until you work in estates. We practically had to drag some worthy colleagues out of their rooms kicking and screaming, like they were being evicted from their own homes.
"After that I found myself in a place I can't remember and don't remember what I did (though I remember some of the people in it). So we'll pass on that…..
"I then did a secondment to Fife Council which was a lot of fun; starting up a process that's not a million miles away from what the team brief turned out to be in here (can I sue for plagiarism?). As is the way with public services I came in to do one thing but ended up doing quite another, and as I was working beside their marketing and design people I ended up as their unofficial copywriter and spent most of my time writing slogans for adverts and designing exhibition stands.
"Where was I after that? You see, you get more forgetful as you get older. Oh yes, I ended up in another place I can't remember the name of doing Policy Week 2005. Whatever happened to Policy Week? That was fun too. I remember we got in an anti-sectarian play off the Fringe and ran it in VQ conf room 1 (full house too). I remember loads of people came walking through the atrium wondering who was doing all the effing and blinding in the conference suite and moving off a bit chastened.
"Where does that take me? 2007 I think. I did another secondment to the Office of Fair Trading, who were opening a Scottish arm in Edinburgh. That was fun too - I met loads of filthy rich competition lawyers who turned out to be pretty agreeable really. Nobody tells better dirty jokes about lawyers than other lawyers.
"That took me to what has turned out to be my final job in eHealth. Yes, after years of studiously avoiding Health I ended up in Health! But this has been fun too as I've largely been left to my own devices to act as an unofficial journalist and webmaster spreading the word.
"So I think that's that - a quick run through 26 years. My memory isn't the greatest in the world and I've probably forgotten so many great things and great times. David Bowie, when asked to recall the 1970s, once said: 'apparently I had a good time'. I can't remember the 1970s either, probably for many of the same reasons he can't, but the civil service years of my life have been a good time!
"What am I going to do now? Nothing initially. Outwith the odd period of unemployment or further education I've been working since I was 17 and I'm happy to take a long break. I've got plenty to keep me occupied and loads of travel already stacking up. I fully intend to make the most of every cheap mid-week Ryanair or Easyjet city break deal I can find; and knowing me I'll always manage to find fresh ways to get myself into trouble. Then again, I might spend the next six months lying on the settee drinking beer and watching sport.
"Ah, the options!"
