The only cloud on the horizon was the meeting with my boss.
Other than that, I told myself I was up to date and so should be able to freewheel to the weekend.
Summer has arrived, it didn't get below 20 degrees overnight, so sleep was hard to come by.
And in the morning, I slept through the alarm in the cool air and so was waken with Jools leaving for yoga.
I got up, made coffee, put out the bins, drank the coffee and was ready for work by quarter past seven.
No need to worry, it is summer holiday time in Scandinavia, and most are still on the beaches.
I have a second coffee and breakfast.Life is good.
If I block out the work part.
There is the meeting at midday, and it dd not go well. I have no more words, other than I want to retire yesterday and never think of this cesspit of rank incompetence ever again.
More likely, until Monday.
I am done.
I send out meeting invites, log off, open a beer and sit next to Scully watching the third from last stage of Le Tour.
Up and down, but mostly up mountains, and with the same result. Pogacar wins, cycling backwards, whilst juggling. Knives.
We go to Jen's where she has prepared home-made burgers and fries. So, we eat well and then play cards.Here is a shot of John's boy racer car, that he, at 88 years old, is very happy with.
1 comment:
"Pogacar wins, cycling backwards, whilst juggling" - he is pretty darn amazing isn't he. Always super enjoyable when he is racing.
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