I am fed up with this weather. I am getting seasonal affective disorder, and it is bloody August. I haven’t packed away any winter clothes, I am sat in the office with a jumper on and a pair of thick tights desperately trying to stay warm. The boys laugh at us with our pashmina’s draped around us like blankets – but I’ve been seriously considering how to bring a duvet into work like the advert.
I would kill for a duvet day, not like Monday where I had a sore throat and earache (nearly gone now thank you), but one where you choose to lie-in, watch DVDs, order food in as you really can’t be bothered to cook and laze around in your jim-jams until you have a bath with candles lit all around you and go to bed.
Becky is off with a bad back, Zoe is on holiday from tomorrow, Alice had a job interview yesterday, so it could be just me looking after 11 people tomorrow and Friday. Now that is a thought… I know I will be looking after however many clients in my new business, but I will have a team of other VAs behind me. Here it will be – me.
On another note, if you know when you get drunk you are likely to barf everywhere, will you please stop drinking earlier? I am fed up with walking around vomit-stained streets in London. (Sorry if you are eating). It makes the city look revolting, only in this country have I seen it. Or only abroad if you have herds of chavs on holiday from Britain. Sort it out.