(no subject)
It seems that my tenure as Possibly The World's Only Male Secretary may be drawing to a close. The latest replacement secretary - well, PA in this case - arrived earlier this week, and her talcum-scented, cat-obsessive presence means that my days in Probate are numbered. Next week, I shall be sitting in a chair spinning around inanely and throwing paper around while pretending to be a solicitor as that's the only office free, which should be jolly at least, but after that I'll probably be out on me hoof. Today brought a rejection for a job at my old school, of all places; perhaps I can make a career out of being completely unemployable?
The Folks are off skiing in the Alps for a week tomorrow; previous expeditions have resulted in various disasters including broken ribs, strange growths impregnable to the wonders of French medicine but miraculously treatable with antibiotics upon returning to England, and amusing fish-lip allergy attacks. Here's hoping nothing horrible goes wrong this time to disrupt my planned week of blasting terrible music very loudly around the house.
The Folks are off skiing in the Alps for a week tomorrow; previous expeditions have resulted in various disasters including broken ribs, strange growths impregnable to the wonders of French medicine but miraculously treatable with antibiotics upon returning to England, and amusing fish-lip allergy attacks. Here's hoping nothing horrible goes wrong this time to disrupt my planned week of blasting terrible music very loudly around the house.