Ah the joys of travelling. Count them all day, check behind the sofa and you’ll still come up with a bit fat zero. Much to tell, couple of problems, the first is the horror of my inbox which is unravelling in perfect synchronisation with the world’s financial markets. I fully expect to have reduced it to a managable size at exactly the same time as the FTSE 100 index drops below about 3.
Displacement activity, that’s the key here. Not just for the implosion of anything that may be useful for paying mortgages and eating, but also from my stupidly sore shoulder that I’ve injured in a very middle aged way. I can now barely turn my head after a session of extreme sleeping. Yes, folks went to bed a bit drunk, woke up in a silly amount of pain. Maybe I fell out of bed.
Anyway, once I’ve hosed out the fetid cesspit of the outer reaches of my inbox, and secured a sequential line of cold beer, I shall re-enter the world of pointless rambling. Until then, it is time to lay down some sick moves while hitting “reply-to-all”