No format to this one…. not so much in the mood for writing as I am getting thoughts out of my head.
Went to work at our head office today which is in the nearest town – Ipswich. I had a meeting scheduled with one of my team for 10am.
As I sat chatting through some work with another colleague I received a phone call from Wil sounding panicked that he’d just had a car accident. After the initial shocking hit that sent my heart racing the fact that he was on the phone calmed me because if he’s panicking into my ear then he must be ok. Turns out he managed to stuff his car into a kerb after giving it a bootfull out of a roundabout. That is not the story he told me, it is the one I know happened, because just recently I told him his driving makes my ass nip up and that he was going to loose the back end of his car if he kept accelerating out of roundabouts like he does.
Fortunately no one else was involved. The damage to his car is quite nasty but potentially repairable – There goes another wadge of £££’s for nothing. I know I sound unsympathetic but I saw this coming, and given that I have bitten my lip all day so as not to give him the big ‘I TOLD YOU SO’ that I felt like doing, I’m ranting it here. So shoot me.
Several minutes late I entered the meeting with my staff member and about 15 minutes into discussion the fire alarm began sounding. Of course I had to be on the 5th floor of the 5 storey building and of course it had to be pissing a monsoon outside. The entire building spewed out of every ground floor exit and stood on the practice pitch of the football club next door, several hundred people all stood crowded 3 and 4 under an umbrella, and me, stood there thinking about the one I had in my bag on the 5th floor as another droplet of rain beaded up off my hair and ran down my cheek.
The hand dryer in the ladies toilet has an awkward sensor on it which seems to turn on any time you:
1. Walk in the room.
2. Wash your hands.
3. Throw something in the bin.
But not when you:
1. Offer it your wet hands.
2. Stand with your wet hair pressed against it.
3. Wiggle your hands in front of your forehead whilst semi-squatting with your arse at a 45 degree angle to the floor.
Although number 3 does get the best look of abject absurdity from one of the directorate managers who enters the ladies toilet to find you doing a lonely version of the funky chicken in the corner of the room next to the bin.
Returned to my desk to receive another phone call from a highly stressed Wil who was still waiting for the pick up truck to tow his vehicle away. Seems nothing I said was right so cut the conversation short and returned to my meeting, catching sight of my frizzy hair in the glass meeting room door.
Eventually I made my way back to my own office where I had a very late lunch. For the record a 14:00 bowl of porridge is just the ticket to prevent munching through the afternoon. I had a small snack of crackers and cottage cheese to fuel up for running club and then left to pick the boy up from after school photography club.
As dead as my legs felt when I walked out on the field they managed to come into their own as they sprinted into action for the 1 mile time trial. Achieved a new PB of 7:14 over last time which was 7:24, a pleasing result.
Arrived home to enjoy mackeral fillets on toast for dinner.
Must make sure I don’t overdo it this week, I’ve got a mountain bike race at the weekend. With the crappy weather forecast, it looks set to be another mudfest.
In other news I have begun reading The Catcher In The Rye. If you’ve read it, let me know what you think.
That is all.
After setting down a plate of ‘Middle Eastern Pasta Salad’ in front of Wil he put down his fork and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of Smoked Chipotle Tabasco Sauce and promptly began smothering the pasta with it.
Fox's Den 