Some of you may have started your brand new year with a rotten hangover. Others may have slept in late or been up extra early, doing a New Year’s resolution sweaty work-out. I spent my morning at Urgent Care. Bloody viruses. One came uninvited to our Christmas celebrations and knocked four of us sideways. It was the gift that kept on giving.
Seven months and I haven’t written a blog. SEVEN MONTHS!!!! I could supply you with a list of extremely valid reasons, but I can’t be arsed. I’m like that now I’m sixty-three and have turned into a harpy. Seriously. I … Continued
t’s early December – the last of the Thanksgiving turkey has hit the road and you’re kidding yourself that you won’t make the same bad choices again. But every day you go to the office, there’s another food gift in the staff kitchen from a company you do business with, or someone brought in something they cooked at home.
Sometimes, I really don’t know how my Gump does it. He works more than anyone I have ever known. In the past ninety-six hours, he has worked sixty of them. I have kept the same hours as him, and even gone and hung out with him at his office (with my stash of reading material and chocolate) and I’m exhausted just spending all that time relaxing. He must be absolutely cream-crackered – which means knackered – which means so tired you will probably die. So there it is, a small and rare tribute to the hard-working Gumpster, and the introduction of a British word to my non-Brit readers.