I was one kitten down for the 7am early shift on Tuesday morning.
I clocked Dotty [stop it] sneaking into the under the sink cupboard whilst it was open. A couple of minutes later and I couldn’t find her.
Oh dear.
A frantic check of all the usual hiding places, but nothing.
Five minutes later and I heard a rustling sound in the adjacent cupboard. She had somehow squeezed through a small hold in the cupboard wall for the piping.
cats
lol, etc.
I pressed on, and sailed through the 7am shift with Serenade Radio.
I like to think that it is less shameful to be a 40-something male listening to songs from the shows, than it is being a 40-something male still trying to sculpture the Mod feather barnet.
The morning ride along the Trail was a little damp and uninspiring. A carpet of leaves has been laid since my previous bicycle ride last week.
The Paras were out on manoeuvres on the other side of the muddy banks. Rifle rounds meant that most wildlife was absent along the stretch towards the Hythe.
West Ham Wanker tried to corner me into a tactical football conversation in the changing room. I don’t do football tactics.
I politely told him that time was a little tight, but I would examine his thrusting formation at a later date.
The swim was GLORIOUS - the whole pool to myself.
I’m not entirely sure what happened there, but it led to a stillness in the water for me to carve my way through.
Another soaking on the bicycle ride back to base, and then full on work until early evening.
It was another crisis simulation day. The team are getting quite creative with these.
Be prepared…
A large part of the role is to simulate an unfolding social media crisis - all behind a firmly locked online simulation tool.
You need characters to participate in this sim. Looking back at my timelines and most of my social address book contacts appear to have been involved - all playing to character type as well.
The Rowhedge rifle firing continued to reverberate around the town.
At least I thought it was at first; it turns out that it was a couple of purring kittens sleeping beside me as the work crisis simulation continued.
And then Wild Writing.
Why not?
It would mean sacrificing a number of paid projects for a whole year.
I’m not quite that comfortable yet…
I disappeared down to the Quay later in the evening. On the menu was CHIPS.
A fella was out in his front garden, wearing a head light and trimming his lavender.
Is that wild enough for you?
Funny old town.