The Mourning Protocol
It’s been a funny year so far, (no, not funny ha ha), the world losing an eerily high number of influential and dare I say iconic entertainers. Whilst all are unfortunate and many untimely, I can’t say I’ve been personally compelled to express any sort of remorse into cyberspace. No, none have affected me as the death of the artist formerly known as The Artist Formerly Known as Prince. Ah yes, Prince died this week. (that’s me, finger-on- the-pulse. You’re welcome. Eat your heart out TMZ.) This is sad, shocking and in no uncertain terms a bit of a bummer. No, I’m not weeping in my Wheaties, but still it’s worthy of a word. Upon hearing the news there I was, with the rest of the world straight to my antique iPhone 4, quick...
The lost art of wasting time
In a vain attempt to find a suitable and all too often elusive date for the girls’ book club, (yes. Book Club. Let it go. ) there was a moment of slight hesitation before clicking that send button. Did I really want to go there? Hmmm… An hour later, eyeballing my inbox heaving with a 20 message-strong thread of emails I knew then and there I had embarked upon a task of utter frustration and sheer futility. This was gonna be painful. Wednesday worked for some, but another was travelling. No, no not the 20th, out with clients, another, dinner party got there first. What about tuesday? (TUESDAY?!) Saturday? Saturday is just a no-go. (When did weekends become so untouchable?? Ah right, kids. Them again.) You get the picture. I could almost feel myself...
