Solstice Shitstorm?

It doesn’t exactly feel like we’re approaching the end of June, does it? Everyone I saw onsite today was wearing a coat. I suppose that’s the downside of being on a caravan park that’s close to the sea – any hint of a coastal breeze and you’re going to be ten degrees cooler than a few miles inland.

I am committed to watching a game of football with Ted tomorrow. Beryl spoke to Philippa at the weekend and said something along the lines of “Can I please, for the love of God, borrow your husband to babysit my husband during the England game? None of his offspring are available, and if I have to sit here while he moans and swears his way through a 90-minute match I’m liable to end up braining him with a saucepan.”
So, despite having as much interest in Euro 2020 as I have in the contents of a Robbie Williams album, I shall be winging my way Northwards in time for the 8pm kick-off.

We’re having a big meeting at work at the end of the week. Gavin wants to have a ‘check-in’ get-together to have a review of how the new management structure is working out, which is funny, as we still haven’t been told exactly what we’re all responsible for, we’ve just been mucking in and getting things done as they crop up. But there’ll be food available, and it’ll be good to get ‘the team’ in one room and see how they feel about my first three months or so in the job. Actually - it’s nearly FOUR months. My God, how time flies when you’re constantly anxious and white-knuckle-riding your way through the complexities of learning a new position.

RC 21-6-21