Risk Management

So we're in Guildford shopping and TSM drags me into a perfume shop and between her and the sales assistant I end up smelling like Louis XVIth's poodle. Not that I minded. The debate came down to something oddly reminiscent of swarfega, a middle class variant on Old Spice, and grapefruit with a sprinkling of demerera sugar. I will find out on my birthday what won.

I'd spent the morning successfully going through the risk register of the dance company whose board I sit on but had overlooked my personal risk register; so smelling like an old French King's poodle hadn't been scored for either likelihood or impact. The trip to the dentist however had and I more or less predicted the outcome accurately (no pain, but £330 worth of gain - for my dentist). Similarly the vet's appointment - £90 and no doubt more to come when the blood test results emerge. Good news is that Tigger is in pretty good health apart from some weight loss. Finger's crossed.

Cleaned the front of the house in the evening. Major risk was the concrete concealing the Virgin media cable which had come loose after twelve winters and more or less disintegrated; didn't want to trip up elderly relatives or postmen so managed to put in a temporary fix.

Good job I don't do this every day. I might scare myself ...