NOT, NOT jealous of the daughter. Never, never, never… She’s on her little cruise

 She was here yesterday I think

• for a fortnight
• to the Norwegian fjords
• she was collected by chauffeur
• she has a sea view suite
• and the cruise company has paid her to do it!

Not in the LEAST bit jealous. As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, it was lucky it wasn’t a plus one deal. Or not.

The warm weather continues

and I’m getting more and more eccentric the hotter it gets. Now the daily temperatures are consistently above 20C it’s the shorts that get an airing. And the legs. S’pose it goes without saying you do get the other. It does mean some people are probably convinced I’m a postman but (have you noticed most postmen wear shorts, all year round? Well they do round here anyway) I like dressing that way because I can. There is something innately childish wearing shorts when on my lunchtime walk – just to annoy the other wanderers who are employed and therefore – by definition – cannot normally choose their own dress code. But it feels soooooooooooooooooo good. And at networking events. You get known – oh you’re wearing your shorts again are you? – and, as I’m continually going on about the daughter, I get known for being her dad! You could say it’s a bit sad being known for your offspring’s exploits but I’m not proud. I just want people to remember MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Oh sorry, too millennial? Mind you, if others pick up on the idea, how are you going to stand out then? Well let’s just worry about it at the time, shall we?

Networking alfresco this morning

courtesy of The Italian Villa and Tony Beale at Compton Acres near Poole and The Boardroom Network. What a start to the day. Over 100 people and an excellent breakfast, I’m just looking forward to weighing myself on the Wii Fit tonight and getting told off. Do you pick up business? No, if that’s the only reason you went there but you build up contacts who become friends who become or introduce you to clients. Know, like and trust. You cannot skip straight to the third. Especially in my line of business. It doesn’t matter WHAT I know (well, not much really) as long as I don’t do anything to endanger their business but they do need to like me or even just respect me to do business. Here’s an admission – in print – I probably can’t do what I do any better than any of my colleagues in the industry so why do people choose me rather than them? Certainly, going back to the days of mainly doing accounts and tax returns, I really couldn’t do a “better” set of accounts than someone else, so why were clients attracted? I’m not cheaper. Wouldn’t want to be. I don’t want a relationship based on price. But people trust me and so they’re willing to engage me.

I am starting to flag again

It’s surely nothing to do with getting up at 05.40 this morning, the day after driving two and a bit hours to Somerset, hunching over a laptop for several hours in a cubbyhole under the stairs (the office) and driving two and a bit hours back again. Surely not? I’ve certainly already passed the 7.5 hour day by now but that’s alright. I’m superhuman aren’t I??? Well, according to my life coach, Becki – probably not. Got a good telling off this morning for not taking my health seriously enough. I’m not sure how your doctor’s surgery operates but ours is like this:

• there is a mad panic at 08.00 when the appointments for the day are released and the telephones are jammed up for ages. Just redial and redial, just like everyone else
• “the computer” randomly releases longer term appointments for people who can wait for a while but you have to be lucky and there’s no OBVIOUS rhyme or reason as to which doctor and when the appointments are released
• phone up and expect to be able to schedule an appointment in 3-4 weeks time when MY DIARY is clear is impossible
• which means I either take what’s on offer and rearrange the client I may have scheduled to see or phone back another time

I presume the idea is that:

• x% of people get well of their own accord
• y% of people change surgery and worry someone else’s receptionist instead, and
• z% of patients are rushed in by ambulance to hospital but that’s a separate health budget so it’s someone else’s problem…

Cynical. Me? Still, I’ve got my orders and, since Becki has hopefully signed up to this mayhem, she can see I’m taking it all seriously again. Lack of emojis. Cheesy grin. How did I end up with over 800 words? Another one of those posts where the first chunk was easy, the middle bit was a fight getting it out of my head and the rest was verbal (word processor) diarrhoea (which, being the correct spelling rather than the American, is not in the spellchecker). And HOW it thought it might be a mistype of Rhodesia I’ll NEVER know!