Thursday 30th May 2019

I am no longer a quality manager. Maybe a bad quality manager, but I am to be replaced, which is what I requested to happen, and is.

So, as the days go by, I will take more and more of a back seat with the project whilst Glen takes over. I feel bad, but I have no desire to carry on. I am washed, out, wrung out, hung out to dry.

But it will lead to a quieter life. Which would be nice. I look forward to some restful sleep.

But I am in Denmark for eight days, keeping my pre-holiday promise to support the project, even if with each hour that passes, I am less and less relevant.

But that's OK.

I woke up at six, got up, had a shower and got dressed. I would be ahead of expected time in the office. I meet a colleague in the breakfast room, and he said, you expecting to drive into the office?

Yes.

Well, the car park's been taped off by the police. Indeed, from the lobby I could be the tank-proof plastic tape flapping in the breeze, and two squad cars parked outside and the feds milled around.

No idea what has happened, I heard some nose during the night, but nothing that bad.

We had to call the office for someone to come and collect us, with us hoping we could get our cars that evening; just as well that I didn't have to get to the airport, as would have to next Thursday morning.

And work carries on as normal. Or close to normal. There is panic on everyone's faces.

I plod on, I have a new spreadsheet to populate, and I can make that last all day. So I do that on and off most of the day, as it was too wet to go outside and do some blade inspections.

After lunchtime, or as I did not eat, after noon, I go out to watch other people inspect blades.

We did not go it all day, as in the morning it was pissing down, and staying warm and dry was more important. Apparently. I didn't argue.

At half six, I grab a lift with Tim in his new Audi, which, apparently, instead of an accelerator, has an on/off switch, so we lurch between hard accelerating and hard braking to the other side of town where our favorite steak restaurant, Butchers, is.

And the boss pays with her company credit card, I feel like a beer, but have a diet Coke keeping in the spirit of things.

Oh well.

Steak is good, even if it took some time to come, but which point it was half eight, nearly nine by the time I walked back to my hotel, and blogs to write and all that.

I call Jools and realise in the fog of work, I had failed to call the hos;ital to see how Mum was.