Infringement

Most of the day I buckled down to a complicated proposal I’m trying to consolidate, accompanied by power cuts and a large bag of lemon and chilli cashews. During a rainstorm I realised our office parking area looks like a Formula One pit stop lane.

You think a plan is in hand, but it is not.

Gone 11pm, I was thinking about going to bed and I got a call from the guy at the travel agency we use to make flight bookings. It was very good of him to call when it was probably the last thing he wanted to be doing.

The following day’s original plan was to work to finish my deadline and then drive three hours to Mtwara to make my 7pm flight to Dar es Salaam. That flight was shifted forward by twelve hours at the last minute, to a 7am departure.

Cue panic mode. I reached our sleeping driver to agree whether we could get up at 3am and whether there was enough fuel in the vehicle to make it. We made a plan, with apologies to Friday’s deadlines, which will not pan out as intended.

I am starting to feel tired of this work. It infringes far too much on any sense of balance and calm, as well as my embryonically developed personal life.