Deadline interruptus

The NZ work I was doing yesterday carried over to today and I am struggling to complete it. There is no deadline, but it is doing my head in nonetheless. The morning was a write off – and I was, quite frankly, happy to write it off. First, Mitch came round bearing gifts of croissants; then almost immediately, Mrs. Ottawacker’s sister came over (with brother and nephew in tow) for a quick visit. I said hello, and then buggered off to the office to watch Jürgen Klopp’s last game as Liverpool manager.

It's quite hard to not go overboard on Klopp. He has been a perfect fit for Liverpool; he is as left-leaning as its people, cares about society and treating people properly, and takes no shit. He’s also bloody good at his job and has a wicked sense of humour. The game flew by and Liverpool won 2-0. Then, at the end, there were all the farewells. It’s all a bit surreal, really – and the idea of his not being there next season hasn’t really sunk in yet. He is, he really is, the heartbeat of the club.

Anyway, after that, I tried to settle back to work and failed miserably. Mrs Ottawacker took the plum of our loins to the airport (she’s a good mum!) and I suddenly realised that I wasn’t going to work any more today. So, I’ll go and put my feet up somewhere until they get back and I get roped into cooking dinner.