That was the week that was

So I did the education thing last week, and now I am back, and while I did all the usual handover and cover thing that a chap is want to do these days to ensure continuity for a chap's customer and to be seen to be continuing the perception that we are indeed a seamless and infinite resource. 

It is like having a week off, except without that "not being at work" feeling, mostly because either side of the educating and exhausting day, I was working anyway.  The bit that is the same is the pile of work, all tagged urgent, waiting for me when I returned today.  I am following the Luge principle, and am trying to ensure that every minute of every hour of every working day is moving something forward in a meaningful way, and if that is not enough, which a couple of the things on my plate are not, then so be it.  I can only deal with the possible, and anything more is, but definition, impossible. 

I also had a little chat with Golfy today.  It was something like the X Files, or maybe The Twilight Zone, or maybe even Tales of the Unexpected.  But enough of Golfy's life.  "Check out what my location is on the chat screen", says the Golfmeister, and blow me if he was not in London, at my last customer's office, sitting pretty much in the same seat as I did when I worked there.  I am beginning to think he is following me.  He has been drafted in for a time-boxed period of a month, in which time he will no doubt be working on the considerable backlog, just like I did as part of my exit plan.  And the team is even the same.  I have given him the low-down on the people to watch out for, although on reflection I didn't mention the woman who laughs like a chimpanzee who has just been told the best orangutan joke she has ever heard, complete with the snorty-hiccup at the end as she draws a breath in to her cavernous lungs.  Let's not mention her, and that can be a joy for him to discover one fine afternoon.  I can still see the face of, let's call him Jock, who was much disturbed by the said laughing and who needed restraining on more than one occasion to stop him decking her.

Anyhow, back go Golfy.  He now has a 2.5 hour commute each way to get in to the office, although he seems to have negotiated a part-time attendance pattern which should ease the travel pains.  I wish him luck in the role, and would very much urge him to get down the Subway for an Italian bread sarnie, six inches for the waist-conscious, or a full foot if you just don't care.  I also recommend the chocolate-covered coffee beans in Nero next door to the office.  Pound a box, and if you eat them all you can bounce off the ceiling.  The guys who clean the Gherkin use them to wash the upper windows.  Honest.