
You may have gathered that I am not filled with the Christmas spirit or it’s festivities. In fact, if Santa was somehow really unfortunate enough to have consumed a mince pie laced with strychnine you can guarantee that it would be myself and Ebenezer sitting down comfortably and smug, talking about the shock and horror of Father Christmas’ surprise demise.
Then we would consume the remainder of the packet of mince pies.Read More »
Hot on the heal’s of the generous five days compassionate leave from work (superseded with work then telling me that my entire team is up for redundancy) I booked my flight as soon as I could and set off for the states. I boarded the flight with only thirty odd minutes left and headed for my seat. I got to my seat and some passenger had already put her hand luggage onto it like it was her right. She was gently turfed out and I got happy and comfortable.
“Crickey!”
Fresh on the back of the last event where there were two prostate cancer speakers, I find myself at another and in the same situation. This time however, smart casual scarecrow had been replaced by slick Pete. Hair was cut so sharp you would think I saw a barber on the train, a funky dress shirt, crisp jeans and my best shoes. The only downside was I probably looked a lot more affluent than I actually was and this is not the safest part of London. Tread carefully.