Day 17... is it? Yes, I think so.
Anyway, since this is now a 'closed to non-invitees/private forum' so to speak, let's vent some spleen express some views share some thoughts, since supposedly my paranoid former employer (as from henceforth aka PFE) should no longer be reading let alone accessing my (anonymous) blog.
(btw, PFE, if you are still snooping around, two words: bog off)
Right, first things first: I am absolutely over the moon to be out of there, let there be no bones about it. New job is terrific and I am very happy. Only sadness is having left some really talented and wonderful people 'behind'. But never fear, where there is a will, there is a way. They too shall rid themselves of the shackles that still bind them. Soon.
Second: a huge thank-you to all the friends, family, ex-colleagues, virtual blogging community acquaintances who have contacted me to say a) where the f*ck has your blog gone, I cannot access it any more, and b) keep on writing, you make us laugh (which was/is the whole point of this venture, something lost on others, but I digress, again)
Third: is it me or are you also fed up with celebrity culture, and have been for quite some time (mind you, I was never interested in the first place, but it seems to have spawn and justified a whole generation of magazines, TV shows, raisons d'etre, etc, etc, yawn, v boring)?
Fourth: how do some women manage not just to wear but also to walk in v high heels to/from the station/work/home abode without either falling over (or maybe they do, I just never am around to see it happen) OR getting sore feet day in, day out? Are these the same women who have botox injections into the balls of their feet so they can walk on their tip toes for longer? No idea, but it does cross my mind whilst trudging around in my runners, heels in my work bag. Think it comes under same heading as the jeans in boots post a couple of weeks ago.
Fifth: hang on, I need a wee.
Right, where was I? Oh yes, fifth: there is another Mothers' Night Out tomorrow! Secret Santa, elves' ears and reindeer noses. The first already sorted, the latter two optional. The gorgeous Canadian mummy is hosting, so promises to be great fun. Although will have to pace myself as required to attend nativity play following morning and then make a bee-line for the airport in time to catch - what does Jaywalker call it? Oh yes, Michael O'Leary's yellow bird of death - flight to see brother in another country.
Still trying mentally sort out logistics of posting on blog from a foreign country without access to a pc... hmmm, challenges, challenges... maybe I can post from my phone? would entail rather lot of texting and possible RSI of the fingers....
OK, brain empty, over to you for some random musings.