DUCK THE FLARE

Well, what a day. First off youngest stepson sent a text that he had proposed to H and she had said yes. The text was sent yesterday afternoon but G didn't turn his phone on until this morning. But, Hurrah, we are very happy.

I went to work. That's where it all went wrong. The word s**t became the watch-word of the day. In fact I realised I could say s**t, s**t, s**t under my breath, (what a strange phrase) 9 times between my and my boss's office. I even got to sit down in his office while we discussed the unfolding disaster, whereas usually we stand and hover. He started to say s**t too.

Anyway it hasn't hit the fan yet, the s**t that is, but when it does I imagine the person in the scapegoat firing line will be me. That's what you get for being bottom of the heap. This feeling was further confirmed when the same boss thanked me for my hard work on the year end debacle and said he would like to take me out for lunch. The Last Supper perhaps. Anyway, I thanked him but prevaricated as I said I hoped to loose a stone before my holiday. Being a man he thought it seemed a reasonable target. Pah! I'll be lucky to get rid of a couple of pounds; and then they'll be back on quicker than you can say cream cake.

Hope you all had a good day.

Hope I do tomorrow.