I feel refreshed following a week lapping up the sunrays in Rhyl (you should see what they’ve done to the prom – it’s fantastic – (irony free brackets)).
But, I was tossing all night prior to going back to work; I had a dream about work and I never dream about work.
I dreamt that I had my own office. I had a dream that I had my own cupboard full of goodies with Team Managers queuing at the door while I doled out sweets in exchange for sales statistics. I had a dream that I listened to daytime radio all day under the illusion that I was listening to calls ‘for training purposes’. I had a dream that I could sign off stationery expenses and had top of the range ‘Paperchase’ stuff.
I am resolved. I’m no longer content trying to become a ‘made’ Team Manager – I want to become a capo-regieme - I want to have Bernard’s job.
I’ve had a dream.
While I’ve been off, Tizzy lost her little grey book full of contact numbers. It’s the second time this year and as a consequence she’s been signed off with ‘stress’ for two weeks.
Ah well. I’m sure that Martin Luther King had similar set backs at the beginning.