On A.. Wait, what day is this?

Wednesday? What the hell (you might ask) am I doing writing a blog entry - which of late have become the exclusive domain of the train - on a Wednesday ?

It's pretty simple really. As planned the heavy lifting was to be completed by Tuesday (mostly) and Wednesday would be kind of ticking boxes, crossing T's and dotting I's - or at least for me. Of course I could have sat around and waited for something to happen - but then I can do that at home - which lets be honest - is emminently more sensible than being in the office for the sake of being in the office.

Monday's hurdle was a pretty easy hop in the end. It lasted the full length of allotted time, but ultimately, those who had to say "Oh, go on then" said "Oh, go on then" and all was mostly well with the world. There were a couple of things that needed nailing, but the big issues are completely and utterly nothing to do with us - and are down to a different team who are also in the process of juggling cats... You get the picture I'm sure.

Anyway, Monday night still wound up being a late one, with the only food being some takeaway from Leon (which is always good) all in the name of preparation for Tuesdays hurdle. The long journey to Kensington High Street found me hoping off at Olympia for a change, with a short walk around the corner to the Hilton.

Tuesday's hurdle wasn't really one that needed me - of course I had an interest, but it was really for the hardcore mathematicians and pushers of pencils. It is still a valuable and important step, without which we could never get to our destination, but when all is said and done, it is pretty boring too. I got on with some of the "doing" that needed, well... err... Doing. With the formalities of the hurdle out of the way - and in the wrong order there really wasn't a great deal more to be done. I mean, there's the work of the pricers - which is a mysterious black art - and an opportunity for them to moan about the made up numbers. Some of them actually think they're real numbers that are a true and accurate representation of the cost of things - as opposed to being a reasonably well educated guess.

I rallied the troops for a slap up Mexican in "Cafe Pacifico" on Langley street round the corner from Covent Garden tube and it was Jolly nice. Even Mad H was on top form. Clearly a sense of relief at getting to this point was in the air.

In the morning, a fog had descended. Nothing to do with the work, or mexican food, but just the usual fog as caused by the weather. And it made the city an amazing place to see. No doubt this is what a pea-souper used to look like back in the 20's and 30's.... A fantastical place...


The obvious next step was to not be here. Combining that obvious step with a travel ban for most people, and going home was exactly what both the doctor, and my boss was ordering. Naturally if there was an actual need for me to be there, then I would have stayed - but there was just as much of a pressing need for me not to be there - not least the needs of both Mrs G and I to have some time together for a change.

And so, here I am - on the train home with a view to an evening with Mrs G and beers with the lads tomorrow.

Happy days - mostly.