Looking back over the comments made about the first weeks of this column, I am really pleased that my experiences have sparked some interesting discussions. Not everyone identifies with what I¡¯ve written and there have been a few accusations that I¡¯m too negative about my situation. Fair enough ¨C sometimes I am too negative. There have also been some comments implying that I have made my situation worse by, for example, not concentrating on producing journal articles. Again, fair enough ¨C I certainly have made mistakes.

However, there¡¯s another issue in my life that I haven¡¯t mentioned before that may help explain why I have ended up in the situation I am in: I have a long-term health condition, fibromyalgia, which causes me periodic difficulties in my working life.

Fibromyalgia is a chronic, non-fatal condition whose primary symptoms are pain and fatigue. Fortunately I have it mildly and during the time I¡¯ve had it (11 years and counting) I¡¯ve developed various coping strategies and made use of treatments so that, for much of the time, I barely notice it. I have good days and bad days and I can struggle through the latter, more or less. I do have to rest a lot though, particularly on the bad days and, together with my considerable family responsibilities, all this cuts into my working time.

I can work ¨C and work hard ¨C but as my condition fluctuates and is affected by how much I do physically, it¡¯s hard for me to fit into full-time employment. One of the best things about universities is that it¡¯s common for academics to work from home for some of the week. When I work at home I can be as productive as anyone else. But the inevitable trips into the university do at times exacerbate my condition. I can work full time, but anything with a long commute or that obliges me to be at the office all day, every day, is not really an option. With many permanent positions effectively closed to me, I focused my attention on developing a research-only career.

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In many respects I¡¯ve been lucky. Since completing my PhD I¡¯ve been able to juggle bits of work that can fit around my condition with few problems. I had hoped that if I waited a few years and didn¡¯t take on too much work I would get better, but it didn¡¯t happen. In eschewing conventional lectureships I created problems for myself. Working from contract to contract is fine when you¡¯re single, but now I have a family it is not fine at all. Being flexible seemed great at the beginning as I watched my contemporaries complain about their daily commute and long hours, but now they are ascending the career ladder while I am still stuck where I am.

So now I want a more secure position and I¡¯m rethinking just what my health will allow me to do. I¡¯m going to start applying for permanent jobs and see what will happen. If I get one, I will have to negotiate an arrangement that will allow me to work at home a lot.

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Even if the specifics of my situation are unique, in a broader sense it has much wider relevance. It¡¯s not just that there are plenty of other academics with health problems, universities are filled with staff who have personal issues that make working life difficult: caring for a disabled partner, coping with mental illness, dealing with pregnancy and childcare, etc. Yet the path to academic security seems to go in one direction only ¨C the full-time lectureship. I¡¯m certainly not the only one whose personal circumstances have made it hard for them to progress in the ¡°one-size-fits-all¡± UK university system.

I didn¡¯t mention my health condition earlier in this series of columns because even in my working life not everyone knows. The dilemma is this: if I don¡¯t mention my health condition then no one can make appropriate allowances, but if I do mention it there is a risk that other academics won¡¯t consider me for work and career development.

So now, I¡¯m ¡°out¡± (albeit anonymously so). Maybe coming clean in this column will spur me on to changing my life offline.