Friday 23rd April 2010

St Georges Day.

The patron saint of England.

St George's Day is not a bank holiday.

St George was not English.

Or British.

In fact, he may have been Turkish.

Or something.

And the dragon thing.......

Probably not right, either.

And so, I was at work, banging my head against brick walls as I tried to understand how the company worked. Or not.

And then at half ten, my trainer left to go back to France and I was on my own, with 15 case files to sort through. And so after staring at them, reading through the files, I made notes, and then put the notes on a spread sheet with facts I knew, things I have done, and a plan of action. And the afternoon passed by.

Outside, the sun shone in a cloudless blue sky, but with the wind still in the north it was chilly. Except in the office with all the windows closed.

I did drink rather a lot of coffee today. Someone kept making pots of the stuff and I kept right on drinking it. And then when i came home me made a pot of flavoured coffee, I had two more cups. And then we went out into the village to meet a friend and share a celebration meal in The Smugglers, which I rounded off with more coffee.

We shared a huge plate of nachos, and then a main of our choice; I had steam marinated in Rioja; Jools had duck in wine and bob had pizza. Nice fishy pizza.

And some Speckled Hen.

Which is a beer.

Which is rather nice.

And here I am back home, sipping on a glass of Limoncello, as we plan our weekend; maybe a day out at bracing Southend-on-Sea on the train; maybe some cockles and/or muscles, a paddle in the mudflats and a walk along the mile and a half long pier.

Or we may do something else.

It's the weekend, and it's all ours.