Six weeks in to 2010 and so far I've notched up one funeral and a birthday party for an 80-year-old. I've also been invited to a birthday party for a 70-year-old (can't say who, it's a secret, but suffice it to say he was once ultra-bearded) and to put the cherry on the cake - or to poke the lolly stick into the dog poop - there are question marks over my job.
So, one by one, I don't relish going to funerals, although as long as you are aware you're there it's better than the one you go to of which you are oblivious ( because you're dead, obvious innit?). And I hope this doesn't sound too rude, but I don't really like going to birthday parties for people who can be described as a whatever-genarian. Trouble is, I'm not too keen on birthday parties for people much younger than me, either. In fact, if I'm honest, I'm not too keen on parties at all which makes me sound like a miserable git, but frankly I don't care.
And the job thing? Well, I think I'll be OK in that I'll keep my job, but that does open up the prospect of having to run even faster to stay on the same spot. Those immortal - and frankly fatuous - words "We'll be working smarter, not harder" were trotted out. Presumably that means my lords and masters think we all currently work like a bunch of dumboes.
An added cloud on the horizon is that the Greek economy is looking decidedly shaky so the dream escape plan of fleeing there looks somewhat remote. Anyway, mustn't grumble. [Sound of hollow laughter receding into the distance.]
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