The Devil is in the Details

If you know me outside of Blog-land, you'll know that things at work have been trying to say the least. There are a couple of colleagues who have been going out of their way to make life at the office a bit of a nightmare situation. And sadly, their bad behaviour is starting to affect the production of our intern, who reports in to one of the Three Stooges.

Things came to a boil about two weeks ago when I found out that emails going out to external stakeholders weren't being checked for spelling and grammar errors and most of them did not even contain a basic salutation! When I questioned this shoddy approach, one of my colleagues had the gall to tell me that such emails are "industry standard". The cheek!

Earlier today, I'd left instructions for our intern to follow up with a client about a particular matter. Sensing that she'd been the eye of the last storm, she sent me an email asking me to look over the correspondence before it was sent out. Sensible girl.

My reply:
Dear XX,
You might want to attach the update Employer Agreement as the one you have on here reflects the old pricing schedule. As you know, we moved to a new one as of July 1 this year. The new agreement can be found here on the shared drive. Make sure to keep a copy of this new agreement handy. 

Cheers,
Pixy

Her response:
Thanks Pixy, I'll do that.
Btw, can you look over the body of the email and let me know if that makes sense?

My reply:
Hi XX,
Well, since you asked, you might want to word point #4 a bit differently. See below for suggestions.

Her response:
Thanks!
Will do. Sending out the email. You have been cc'd.



My email to the client:
Dear Mr. Client,
Thank you for your interest.... blah... blah.....

I have attached a copy of our new Employer Agreement. Please disregard the previous one sent over.

Sincerely, etc.

Nothing But the Truth?

On the heels of my previous post about "whole truths", I started to wonder about expanding that concept to other parts of my life. Parents teach their kids that honesty is the best policy, and then proceed to undermine that lesson with the infusion of little white lies. Eat your vegetables or else the monster will get you, You can't watch cartoons because the TV is broken, This is not going to hurt at all. 

And why stop with just the kids? The tendency to infuse these lies into everyday living seems to increase exponentially as we grow older. Nice haircut, I can't make it, am feeling under the weather, It's not you, it's me!!

Of course, I understand full well why we all season our conversation with these wee white lies, and the consequences of everyone speaking the truth every time all the time has already been explored quite thoroughly. Still, I did wonder about the consequences of total and utter honesty in one area of life that for many is the centre of their very universe of being.

I speak of course of Facebook.

What would happen if status updates read Horny beyond belief and desperate for a shag. Or perhaps a comment on a photo that says, That's your baby? Wow, he got your husband's gigantic nose, didn't he? Or a post on a friend's wall stating, Yes, we KNOW you two are fucking cute and totally soul mates and everything. But do you have to post that on his wall? Can't you just turn to him and say it so that it doesn't show up on my newsfeed??? 

What? I'm just being HONEST! 

Scheming Governments

It has been widely acknowledged that the Scotland has one of the highest percentage of obese people in all of Europe thanks to deep fried anything being on the list of your 5-a-day. The Scottish Government has been doing its best to combat this problem with a multitude of campaigns and initiatives to get the population to think and live healthy. Apparently, they have also recently teamed up with Royal Mail on a rather unique "get fit" scheme.

At least, that is the only explanation I have as to why the postman would leave a package notice at a time when both flatmate and I were home. He didn't tap at the door, just pushed the note through the mail slot in the door and took off. By the time I got to it, and opened the door he was gone. That meant I had to walk 20 minutes up the road and over the hill to the post depot, stand in line for 10 minutes, collect the package and walk back another 20 minutes home.

On the other hand, it DID get me out of my jammies and out and about on a particularly lovely sun-shiney morning.

Who knows, perhaps the Scottish government might have hit the nail on the head after all and this cockamamy new idea might just work!

Dear God, Why Me?

Opened up my email this morning hoping, as always for word from one of the ten thousand applications I have sent out into the interwebulator world.

Instead, I see FB invite to a Paddy's Day party hosted by Beans. And who's at the top of the invite list? Ms. Skinny-Pants-Over sized-Frames. Ok, so the list is alphabetised, so it makes sense that she's right at the top, but still.

Dammit. I rocked ass (literally) at his birthday, but that was without having to face the upgraded version. Again, not going is not an option since everyone knows that I have no social life. Besides, every single other person that I know will also be at that party.

Why... why.... WHY me??

On the other hand, it might be the perfect opportunity to corner her and make her get me an interview with one of the recruiters in her company. That would possibly cement my status as the crazy, needy ex, but hey.. again.. its not like I'm climbing the social ladder, so nothing to loose.

So that's all right then. As long as I have a plan.

*groan*

It Keeps Getting Better

The Chief Exec of the charity called me yesterday, full of excitement. He'd just got some of the volunteer information forms back and noticed that one of the new volunteers worked with a large recruitment firm. He said he'll send over her information, and perhaps I could give her a call re work opportunities.

Thrilled, I jiggled around impatiently waiting for his email to come in. When it finally popped up on my browser, I double and triple clicked it eager for it to open. I scanned the message for the name of the gift angel that would hopefully pry open the door into that uber exclusive club - employment.

And then, all my excitement went flat and my hopes, that a second ago had been soaring now lay scattered on the floor all around me.

The volunteer who worked in the recruitment agency was Beans' new squeeze.

After starring at the email for what was possibly an hour, I decided that I had already sunk so low, that emailing her really wouldn't matter. So I did. I sent her a nice little note indicating that I was interested in some of the positions that her company had posted on the website, and would she be able to direct me to the best person to chat with about the same.

Its been almost 24 hours, and no reply.

I can't believe I actually got my hopes up. What's that phrase about shame on me for fooling me twice?

Armed and Dangerous

Planning events is always fun. Hard work, long hours and usually cause for consumption of more than one headache pill, but still, fun.

Except this time. Mr. Big Fat Rich Racing Stables Owner, who is the host of the event is, quite plainly, a Big Fat Mico Manager Pain in the Backend. He's wanting to oversee every little angle of the planning process and then looks over and double checks every decision that we make. Most tiresome really, and things take twice as long to get done now that everything (and I DO mean everything) MUST be run by Mr. Anally Obsessive.

Take for example, the seating plan. Always an ardours task since every single guest wishes to have a "good" table, as close to the dance floor as possible. Still, at the last ball, C and I managed to get it done without too much of a fuss. And I'd like to point out that everyone at the ball was quite pleased with their tables!

This time around, Fussy Pants made about a hundred changes to the plan not taking into consideration that the room can only hold so many over sized tables around the dance floor. Apparently, having waiters move around the room was an unnecessary inconvenience. Finally, after much deliberation he came back to us with the table plan yesterday and I got down to making up the lists for the volunteers and deciding who was to host at which table etc. It took me most of the afternoon, but I finally got the volunteer instructions and packages together - all 17 of them!

And then, on the way home I get a call from C and she tells me that Mr. Annoying-as-Hell has decided that he wasn't totally happy with the seating plan and that he was going to have another look at it.

That's when I started to look around for the shotgun. IMPOSSIBLE man!

The Shortest Holiday Ever Taken

I took the 5:45am train from Bombay to Goa on the 19th and arrived into Mapusa at around 2:15 that afternoon. The next day, I left Goa at 2:20pm making it a grand total of 25 hours "on vacation".

In between, there was a large amount of running around and general chaos thanks to my little cousin having fallen ill with the stomach flu. Add in the complications of a door that would not lock thus forcing us to find alternate accommodation, a very anxious and easily alarmed pair of rellies and a cousin who persisted in treating me like a child causing me to have a meltdown of my own ... well, let's just say that those 25 hours were highly stress inducing.

Not the kind of vacation I would recommend!

Dial D for Drama

It has been 8 years since I've lived in India. Breathed the air. Walked the streets. Fought the traffic. Dealt with the bureaucracy. Especially the bureaucracy.

No one does red tape quite like the Indians. They looked, listened and learned from the British and then took it to a whole new level. The Indian government's favourite dance? Making everyone do the Run Around!

Last week, I applied for a tourist visa for my upcoming December trip. Filled out the paperwork, took the pictures, paid the fees online, even downloaded the online checklist to make sure that hadn't missed anything. Went off to the agents here in Glasgow to submit the documents. The fact that the agency was located on the top floor of a local Punjabi centre wasn't the strange part. That you actually had to walk through the main dining/cafeteria area to get to the stairs was what I found a bit odd. Anyway, it was early in the morning and except for one sleepy looking lady who was dreamily making sandwiches, the place was deserted.

Got upstairs and submitted all the documents to the agent. He goes through my application and then asks to see my Indian passport. Eh? That wasn't on the list! I explain that since I've only moved here temporarily, I don't have old (and outdated) documents. It's all back in Toronto. He says that I'll need to submit a copy of the pages that show the passport has been cancelled.

That involved a lot of rushing back home, making a call to Canada, waking up my brother, getting him to scan and email the pages to me and then back to the agency before it closed at 2:30pm. This time, the reception area was filled with old Punjabi men and women sitting around watching Zee TV and drinking masala chai. All conversation ceased as I made my way through the chairs and around the sofas to get to the door feeling like a contestant on a freak show!

Mr. Agent Man thanked me for the additional documents and told me that it would be about 2 weeks for the visa. In turn, I gently (but firmly) asked that he make sure the website was updated with such information.

That would have been a great end to the story.

Instead, today I get a call from the Consulate in Edinburgh telling me that the photocopies are not adequate and that will need to submit the original cancelled passports.

More frantic calls to Canada. More running around by my brother. More expense as he has to pay extra to have it expressed mailed since the postal guys in Scotland are planning a strike next week.

Indian f*cking red tape bullshit. Just when I think I'm out.... they drag me back in.

Teenage Angst Revisited

As if the stressors described in the last post weren't enough, today my entire family descended on our house for a Canada Day/Farewell to Me party. Thankfully although we had rain clouds that moved in and out all afternoon, the actual rain held off and we could enjoy the day out in the back yard.

Apparently my body is not liking all of these recent stressors any more than I am. I woke up this morning with 3 strategically placed pimples on my mug. Terrific.

All of my family took pics with me today. Me and my 3 new pals. What a great remembrance!

A Cinderella Story

Once upon a time, there lived a little brown girl with beautiful hair called Pixy. She was a smart and sassy little thing, always ready to laugh and loved - just loved - to dance.

Pixy's cousin was about to be married. It was going to be a big family affair. She really really really wanted to look half decent at this wedding and so she asked her friend - the brilliant and talented Niffer - to help her out. She showed Niffer an old sari that belonged to her grandmother and Niffer agreed to make her something wedding worthy out of it.

Last week, Pixy dropped by Niffer's place to try on the creation. It was BEAUTIFUL. A simple pattern that was brought to life by the rich vibrant colours of the sari and the intricate gold embroidery. Pixy tired it on and felt like a princess; Niffer had waved her magic over the cloth and turned it into a living wonder. The result was almost overwhelming for the Pixy girl who usually stumbled around in ratty jeans and T-shirts. She couldn't wait for the wedding next week.

But this would not be a fairy tale without a horrid twist - would it? And here's that twist.

Pixy came home yesterday and was informed by her mother that the skirt came back from the dry cleaners - but was absolutely ruined. The entire bottom embroidery had disintegrated and some of the seams had ripped as well. There was no way she was wearing that. Ever.

She surveyed the disaster.

And then, fled to her room where stormy tears flowed freely. Pixy had set her heart on "looking nice" and now, that was all ruined. She cried for seemed like hours. For the lost chance, for the wasted material, for the lost effort on Niffer's part.

Perhaps she was over reacting. After all, it was just a dress.... and in the whole scheme of things not important. But it didn't feel like so to Pixy.

And so, she went to bed that night thinking about how she almost had the chance to live the fairy tale, but now there would not be a happily ever after.

Yards and Yards of Red Tape

It's only been 2 days since I submitted by visa application, but what a 2 days it has been. All day yesterday I was literally too nervous to work, constantly thinking about the visa and that dreadful "what-if-I-don't-get-it" thought hung over me like a big shadow of Doom. Logically, I know that I meet all of the criteria outlined by the British High Commission and I know that I had supplied all of the correct documentation etc. Still, anything that involves an interaction with a bureaucratic authority is a painful and nerve wracking process fraught with nail chewing and hair pulling along the way - mainly because of their overall lack of clear instruction around processes and ambiguous wording on documentation. Here is my evidence of the same:

I went over to the visa agent's offices on Wednesday to drop off my application and supporting documents and have my biometric scans taken. I had read and re read the instructions on the website and had every document they asked for neatly in a folder. The lady at the counter asked me what was my intended date of travel. Early July I told her. She made a disapproving clicking sound. "You're applying too early. They only issue visas 3 months in advance of the travel dates." Now readers, I'd read that website backwards and forwards. There was no mention AT ALL of this "rule". What it DOES mention is that there is a specific per annum quota allocated for this type of visa and no exceptions are made once the numbers have been met. I asked her about this and said that I could wait another 3-4 weeks to apply, but what if I am too late to meet the quota?

She looked doubtful.

She then told me I'd have to write a letter stating that I'd like to postpone the visa start to end June, for travel in early July. That way I could meet the 3 month criteria and the visa officers would know not to issue the visa right away so that I don't "waste" 3 months of it. I pointed out that Q1 on the application asks for intended date of travel. "Do I have to write a letter even after I've answered that question right on the form itself?"

She looked doubtful.

"Write the letter" she repeated and added "Don't worry, we have a lot of people who apply too early and they all have to write this letter." So I asked her if she had a template that I could follow that would tell me who to address the letter to, and what the subject line should be etc etc.

She looked confused.

Turns out, even though they have encountered "a lot of people" in the past who've needed this letter, they didn't once think to have a standard document prepared, or a sample template that one could copy from. But what am I saying? That would require forward thinking - and this was a government agent.

I wrote the letter.

That settled, we moved on to proof of funds. I said that I had a letter from my bank stating my current balance in all accounts as well as a letter from my investment company stating the total value of my current portfolio. "Where is your bank statement?" she asked. I explained that because I do online banking, I don't get a monthly statement in the mail. It is emailed to me instead. And because the website clearly stated that all documentation must be original and must be on the bank's letterhead I cannot include an emailed version. I assured her that the letter from the bank clearly states my current bank balance.

She looked doubtful.

I asked her to have a look at the letter and tell me it was acceptable. She declined saying that as agents, they were not in a position to give advice to the applicants. "But you have a helpline listed on the website that says one can call for clarification on documents or the process." She agreed, but apparently SHE couldn't advise me. If I wanted clarification, I would have to step back outside, call in to the office (the same office I was currently standing in), ask my questions.... and (here's the kicker) be billed $3.50 per minute for the call!!!!!!

That was when I knew I was in a loosing battle. It simply didn't matter how well I read the website, or how well I'd complied my documents or how well my supporting letters were written. I was going to experience application anxiety regardless for this is how all government processes work. So there was nothing else for me to do but hand over my file and leave...... and then spend the next 5-15 days with a large Cloud of Doom hanging over my every move.

Terrific.

Invasion of the Gaggle Pack

I could not figure out the abnormally high percent of teenage and young 20 something girl gaggles I passed on my way to the subway after work last evening. Sure it was March break, but that usually brings out the kiddies and their 'rents - not this lot. They were everywhere. And in the way of persons like me trying to run for a particular train.

As I (literally) pushed my way past the 7th gaggle, it hit me.

Britney's Circus concert was playing at the ACC and these were all the clowns.

Take that V-Day

Email received from our IT team this morning:
We have become aware of public reports of malicious code circulating via spam email messages related to Valentine's Day. These messages contain a link to a website that contains several images of hearts and instructs users to choose one image. If users click on one of the images, they will be prompted to download an executable file. Reports indicate that the executable files could be named: youandme.exe, onlyyou.exe, you.exe, and meandyou.exe (please note that these file names may change at any time). If users accept the download, malicious code may be installed onto their systems. We encourage users to be aware of these type scams during the occasional holidays and if ever in doubt, don’t.

My response:
If this isn't a lesson to folks to stop perpetuating this ridiculous "celebration" of so-called "love" in a manner that is both exclusive and irritating to many, then they deserve to have their computers devoured by V-Day viruses. *insert maniacal laughter*

Wastage

15 year old Brandon Crisp had been missing since Thanksgiving Day (October 13) when he left home after an argument with his parents over his seeming obsession with his XBox. For more details on the story see here. Yesterday, the Ontario Provincial Police formally called off the search, after a body matching the teen's description was found in a wooded area just outside of Barrie - his hometown.

Like everyone else, I too had been following the developing story. With every passing day, the chances of finding the boy alive grew slimmer; and my anger grew bigger. I was angry with Brandon Crisp. So angry, that I wanted him to be found, and then sit him down and give him the talking-to of a lifetime. Then make sure he was grounded for the rest of puberty.

To me, what that boy did was not only basically stupid but more so supremely selfish. I cannot even imagine the anxiety that his parents and family went through while he was missing followed by the cruel pain of now knowing that even the slim hope that they had clung to for the past 3 weeks was all in vain.

I cannot imagine that they will ever be able to forgive themselves - even though they were not to blame for him taking off. They would have been called bad parents if they had not tried to curb his addiction. So, basically they were damned if they did or did not - either way.

Have they already started to turn on each other? It is well known that many marriages do not survive the trauma of the death of a child, especially accidental death. Will the other children (two girls, both younger) have to suffer the added pain and suffering of a split home over and above loosing their brother?

I do not know what Brandon Crisp was feeling in his last moments on this earth. I imagine that the days and nights he spent in the woods were not pleasant. I hope and I pray that he is now at peace. Certainly, no one else is.

*Thwak*

That's the sound of me slapping my hand against my forehead.


Why, you ask?



Well some weeks ago, I was chatting with a dance acquaintance about my upcoming trip to AUS. Said acquaintance is a pilot with Air Canada and often flies to Sydney. As we were chatting, she mentioned that it would nice if she could join me in Sydney and hang out for a bit. "Sure," I said. "That sounds great." Then she asked what I'm doing after Sydney, and I said that I was thinking of heading off to the Northern Territory to do some camping/hiking in the outback. "That sounds great," said she. "I've always wanted to do that. Perhaps I can take a few days off and tag along." Once again, I agreed thinking that it would be nice to have company on this rather desolate of adventures. It was agreed that she would check with the airline about getting time off and get back to me by the end of the week. 


Two weeks, two phone calls and three emails later, I still haven't heard from her and I'm getting antsy as I want to go ahead and finalize my internal travel plans. Logic (and the Irishman) tells me to go ahead anyway. If she was really interested, she'd connect with me. Anyway, I finally manage to touch base with her last Thursday and as I'm telling her about my plan to hike/camp out in the East MacDonnell Ranges, she's suddenly asking me about new year's eve plans in Melbourne. A bit confused, I say that I don't have a set plan but I'm sure my cousins will come up with something. She then proceeds to tell me all her ideas for new year's eve in Melbourne. Still a little confused, I clarify - XX, are you planning to going to Melbourne as well? "Well yes", she replies. "Melbourne for New Year's just sounds great, and so I've decided to go there as well." "But XX," I say with much trepidation, "I'm going to be spending most of my time in Melbourne with my family. In fact, I'm not even going to be IN Melbourne for Christmas as my cousin lives on a ranch in the country and the entire family is heading over there for a few days. But, hey, I'll be back on the 27th and we can hang out again - if you want."


"Oh" says XX. "You're going to be with your family. Hummm, I forgot about Christmas. Well, I guess I can come along to your cousins ranch and then we can come back to Melbourne together."


Totally panicking now, I mumble something about not being sure if my cousin has room for any more people seeing as how he's already hosting about 20 people at his place. Her reply; "Pixy, I don't do alone. I'm not like you. Christmas in the country is not exactly what I'd planned, but under the circumstances, it will just have to do."


Eh? Did I even INVITE you.... you spazzy self centered c*nt???? And what moron can't see that if I want to spend Christmas with my family, well then that's my prerogative??? This is MY holiday that you've just hijacked and now YOU want to make the rules???? GAH!!!!

Heroically maintaining my self composure, I tell her that I'm afraid I cannot impose on my family any more and that if she wants to join me in Melbourne, she will have to amuse herself for the 4 days I'm away, whether or not its what she DOES. If she is still interested in joining me, I will wait another 2 days and then go ahead and book my internal travel tickets.


Yesterday, I get an email from her and I quote:
"I forgot that i had already booked a ski trip with my club from Dec 12-14. So I'm not sure about this whole Australia thing. Why don't' you just go ahead and book your tickets, and I'll book my own if I still want to go."


Hence, *THWAK*

GAH to the nth degree

We got onto the flight in Glasgow and taxied onto the runway. Waited on the runway for 45 mins. Got called back to the gate. Got held at the gate for 2.5 hrs (with everyone still inside in their seats)

Left Glasgow at 7pm local time

Got into Philly at about 11pm

Had to clear customs and immigration get baggage. (1 hr)

Got shuttled to hotel + information from US Airlines staff (1.5 hrs)

Had to wait in line (again) to check in (1 hr)

Got to sleep (2 hrs)

Back to the airport

Caught 8:30 am flight to Toronto

Dada picked me up from airport and took my bags home

I went downtown to work

Got to work 11am

Went straight into a meeting

Just got out of meeting.

Not Very F*cked Anymore. Only Slightly.

So, after a whole morning of frantically calling around to various airlines, travel agents and people I know in the airline biz and scouring the Internet for any and all routes to Glasgow*, I was finally able to secure new tickets for my trip on US Airways. And I didn't quite have to pay with my first born and/or my right kidney, although the price is a whopping $400 more than what I initially paid. Ah, well. Guess that means not as many pints in Scotland!

Also, the credit card company has assured me that I will be getting my money back; it may just take a while to process and it seems like I have to turn in a bunch of supporting documents and paperwork for the same. But I will get it back. Eventually.

Now, let's just hope that nothing else falls apart between now and the wedding!



*At one point I even found a ticket to Edinburgh via Gibraltar for $900! Was tempted, but the return flights were for the wrong dates.

F*cked. So Very F.*.C.K.E.D

Found out this morning that all Zoom flights have been grounded due to outstanding fees. Although the airline has not *yet* filed for bankruptcy, it's just a matter of time.


My ticket to Glasgow for Very Best Friend's wedding was booked on Zoom. As soon as I found out what was happening, I called the travel agent.


The travel agent said to call the credit card company.

The credit card company says their waiting for further information from the airline.

My backup travel agent says that all flights for that period are sold out.

The flights that are not sold out are priced at over $2000.


I am utterly and miserably - F*CKED. 

Mountain out of a Molehill

On Tuesday evening, as I was stepping off the Ellis Island ferry I felt a little sting on my right hand. I gave it an absent minded swat and continued on my way. Overnight on the bus, I could feel my right hand itching, and my left as well, but didn't pay too much attention to it. By yesterday afternoon, as I was typing at my desk at work, I began to feel my right hand cramp up. There was a huge red bump on my arm just below my wrist and I was experiencing sharp shooting pain in my arm and in my elbow, wrist and fingers. My left hand was also rapidly swelling below my little finger and the rash was spreading to the back of my hand as well.

Going to a hospital emergency room was no good. I'd be there until midnight - unless I went into shock before that - and I really didn't want to resort to that! So I decided to head off to my GP's clinic near my house. An hour later, as I walked into the clinic, my forearm was 3 times its normal size with a huge red welt running from my wrist to mid way up my arm. The rest of the arm had cramped up and I could barely move my fingers. When I approached the check in desk, and indicated that I was experiencing some sort of allergic reaction and showed them my arm, the nurse looked a little worried. She asked me, "Are you experiencing any trouble breathing?" to which I replied "no". BIG mistake. I was waiting for the next 45 minutes, all the while my hand getting more numb and the itching driving me to near craziness!

Finally when I got to see the Doctor, she prescribed a bunch of pills to get the inflammation down, deal with any possible infection and a cream for the rash. And oh yeah, because I have a preexisting gastric condition, she then has to prescribe another pill so counter the effects that all the first pills will have on my stomach!

Woke up this morning after a night of tossing and turning (thanks to the rash) only to find that the arm is just as swollen as the night before. Back to the clinic it is; this time I'm looked at right away and given a shot. Thankfully that works and in about half an hour I see a vast improvement.

And now, just about 24 hours after all the drama began my arm seems to be back to its normal size with most of the rash gone as well.

Moral of the story: The next time something bites me, I'm going to bite back. And if that's not possible, always mention "trouble breathing" at the clinic - you'll get seen to quicker!

Counting Down.....

Just 10 am, and already I have been at work 3 hours! This day is just craaaaaawwwwling by. Took the overnight bus back to the T Dot from NYC and except for the incessantly fidget-fart in the seat behind me, the journey was quite good. Passing through Customs at 4am is an experience. Thankfully all the questions I got asked required only "yes" or "no" answers and the officer was quite satisfied to have me nod or shake my head. I'm thinking my tousled hair, crumpled Tee and barely open eyes might have had something to do with it!

The bus dropped me off literally across the road from work (nice), and I was able to grab a quick shower and change at my gym - also across the road from work. (double nice).

3 hours and 4 cups of coffee later I'm hanging in there..... but I do have to pee quite a lot!

Stay tuned for a detailed post on the trip.... but for right now - is it 5 pm yet?