Good boy, Ian. Well done, you deserve it.
I mean there is literally a million things I would rather be doing, but here I am, locked in a small room with the customer, with no place to hide.
Bugger.
Work is a never ending stream of shite, with breaks for meetings where yet more shite is shared around.
Such is life.
But I wake up at quarter to six, an hour earlier according to my UK body clock. Is it time to get up already?
No, but my brain is already racing.
So, I get up, have a shower and at quarter past six I am down in the restaurant having breakfast and coffee. Lots of coffee.
My new minion, Phillip, he who used to be my boss, comes to join me, and talk shop. It is all we talk about now.
And so to work, the short drive to the office, and three hours in which to catch up on mails, and review documents before the grilling begins.
The meeting ends, but I am rewarded with a bonus meeting where I am grilled again.
There is no end to this....But there is. I get to half four, and with my brain melting, I escape back to the hotel and grab a Coke a a tube of pringles to much before it is time to go out.
I am meeting my old friend, Steffen, who was going to buy me beer. Many beers.
I am early, so sit outside, where it is nearly warm enough. Nearly.
But the beer helps, and until the sun sets behind the old post office it is bearable to sit there and people watch.
Steffen arrives, and we go inside to have an IPA or three, then go to a place to eat where we share a starter then demolish steaks, while we drink more beer.
One more beer?
OK, just one. I have to be on the road by six in the morning....
So, we part at the entrance to the hotel, I go up and try to make sense of the football, and call Jools.
I don't sound drunk, apparently....
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