All work-type stuff today, Im afraid....
As I kind of had a hunch that BBBM would be in today I did my eversobestest to wear non-amusing clothing. I think I managed pretty much OK in my pink and cream trouser suit/cream sweater combo. However, I think I may have ruined it by the addition of a pair of silver mesh stilettos and a big chunky necklace made from blueberry-sized fake pearls and chunks of perspex on a glittery silver chain.
As a little spoiler to my trivial (but glittery) appearance, the silver mesh of the shoes was acting on my toes and instep in a similar way to, say, a nutmeg grater. *sigh*
oh! And...Get this! Get this! Went to ask Army Boy a seemingly innocuous question about a client and was treated to a quarter hour diatribe on how BBBM has emailed our Field Staff and totally undermined all his authority. He was pissed-off enough to even show me the email which does, indeed, make it sound like BBBM doesn�t trust Army Boy to sit the right way round on the toilet. I resisted the urge to say �What? You feel marginalised and ignored and are wondering what the fucking POINT of it all is? Now you know how I feel on a DAILY BASIS, you dick-wad!� But, being the nice person that I am, I actually felt quite sorry for him and made appropriately soothing noises. Maybe he�ll remember that the next time Im the one getting metaphorically shagged up the arse (in a corporate kind of way).
Its all hands to the pump this week as its The Chelsea Fl0wer Sh0w next week - where the great and the good of the flower world get to show off how fabulous they truly are to hordes of blue rinsed old ladies and a smattering of celebs. Oh, and the Queen. Technically speaking I dont have much to do with it as Im not going this year - perhaps they heard exactly how much Pimms Anthea (my aged colleague- now retired) and I managed to quaff in the execution of our duties last year. I suspect, however, that as we have new Top Brass, they will all want to get in on the act attend in person. Whatever. It means its should be nice at quiet back at the office and Slave and I can answer every dumb-ass phone call with "Oh, you need to ask (whomever). He's at Chelsea." I predict much net-surfing and chatting about nothing will be going on.
The rest of the news in brief then. Mater and Pater have house guests all next week - the daughter of our German friends and her pal. They're coming to dinner at the Palace on Tuesday. I havent seen Simone for at least three years and, as she's practically my sister as we've been friends with their family since we were babies, it will be lovely to catch up - even if she does snigger most mightily at my mutilation of the German language. Last time they came over, me and BF got them most appallingly stoned, causing a severe case of Raised Eyebrow when Pater came to fetch them. This time, I rather suspect I will have to drive them home so I will be firmly on the wagon for the duration. Boo.
BFs ma gets sicker and sicker. IF the docs can manage to reduce her meds without the worst happening and IF that means she can come home after the weekend, the NHS will provide a Ma@cMill@n nurse to care for her at home, but they suggest the best case scenario is that she has about another 8 weeks. BF is very quiet. Its not good.
At the weekend we have another Geek Convention Gifted Children Activity Day so that should be fun with a capital snooooore. This time its cookery at the W@itrose Kitchens in Salisbury - bloody MILES away. Gah. Damn smart kids and their extra brain cells.
Im going now. BF is crying in the kitchen. I can hear him. He thinks I cant.