sunnyday gone grey

Work attacked an otherwise blameless day today, and smooshed it in to the ground unmercilessly. Terribly pesky, I'd say...

Woke up with a sore throat and feeling shitty, then realized that the taste in my mouth was garlic & cigarettes from eating schwarma on diyafah st at 1am with Lakshmi post catch up (which obviously involved rather a lot of vodka) rather than death appearing on my doorstep. The pesky sore throat that has been looming all week is still around, meaning my glands pop up and down like freaking jack in the boxes, but never actually make me ill enough to warrant going to curl up on my sofa and royally delegate work.

Having had this whole thought process this morning I then get an sms from one employee claiming to be at death's door herself, forcing me to do my whole charming caring boss thing. Then at lunchtime the next one claims to be dying and buggers off. The CC/act was wearing thin but I managed to trot it out. Went for lunch with Scott from communicate who's off to kathmandu soon, which is cool. Made me wish I had adventures planned.... instead my summer is zooming away with itself and it will suddenly be autumn and I won't have a plan. Must rectify this immediately, or alternatively on friday when I see everyone.

Scott & I did agree to go on a mission, sorry, outing to scabby dabby to see some exhibition or tother. I was up there for work yesterday, as I may have mentioned there is a very large possibility that I'll be booted off to live there at some point to set up our outpost... as it is the land of smug marrieds I'm not terribly looking forward to this. People keep trying to convince me that its a great 'scene' but my suspicion is that anyone who uses such terminology is by definition a wanker, and therefore to be avoided.

So I spent the rest of the day trying to get the stupid jobs I'd delegated to J&S done myself, while being shouted at for the Arabic team's mistake, and dealing with far too much new biz to actually be able to service, as well as stroppy journos. My shoulders are round my ears, there's a Gala Dinner in arabic this evening that I'd rather die than attend but have to show face at, and my cousin and his family are in town on a recce which apparently is not going down well with the family who think the sandlands are rather akin to timbuctoo and to be avoided. Obviously, i disagree, but the thought of trying to convince anyone otherwise in my current knackered state is, well, unappealing.