I'm off to Belfast on Saturday with my friend Catrinder McWinder Wiffendorinian; for all my long standing fans, this is the same Catrinder McWinder Wiffendorinian that I went to Madrid with earlier in the year.
And, as per usual, the organisation is shockingly poor. I was on the phone to Catrinder earlier and I had a few questions regarding the trip. Just some simple questions like... What time are the flights? What airport are we flying into? Where are we going to stay in Belfast? What time do we get back on Wednesday? It turns out, between the both of us, the only thing we know is that we have booked into a B and B somewhere in Belfast and we fly out there some time on Saturday. Tomorrow's lunch break will be spent ringing various B and B's in Belfast asking if we have booked with them, whilst Catrinder Mcwinder Wiffendorinian will try and sift through the emails to try and find our flight times.
Work has been a lot nicer this week, with no more important news that involves a mail merge of over 3,000 letters. I've also managed avoid guiding people which means that no one has been sat on the wrong chair, no one has been told were taking a right when were actually taking a left, and no one has had to ensure the most scariest guiding experience of their lives. They say practise makes perfect but in my case I'm not convinced.
I will leave you all with a picture of what happens to me after a bottle or two of wine....