I don't talk much about work for all sorts of reasons. But there I was, merrily going along in the middle of May when my boss approached me with the sort of question that starts "How would you like …" but doesn't end with a question mark.
In short, I was on a special mission. And it is a strange thing, but I got a similar call in May 2007. It seems that I am the "go-to" guy for our illustrious leaders when rights are to be wronged. Well, it's good to be asked, I suppose, and the fact that, after working flat out for eight – ten – twelve hour days for the best part of two months, the whole thing was hijacked at the last minute by a higher power is not my fault.
Frankly, it would be quicker, easier and a lot better for all concerned if we just banned soccer altogether. And religion. But that's unlikely to happen anytime soon, I guess. Still, one can always aspire to a second enlightenment in Scotland.
The upside of all those long hours was that my flexitime credit was much enhanced and I was almost immediately able to put it to good use in foreign.
More to come …
fortynine + one up 