Monday, 29 July 2013


There's a scene in a James Bond film, I think it's Goldfinger, when Sean Connery is in the Aston Martin and he sees a pretty girl in a fast car and he wants to chase her with his throbbing torque. "Dishipline, 007, dishipline," he intones.

I have been far from disciplined with the blog. But I've got no one to blame. I am a weak and venal seed.

But I did take my mum out for supper and then ended up buying her some lotion that she decided she had to have. It was from some rip off shop at St Pancras International. I didn't have enough fight to say: "There is a mugs mark up."

What kind of son does that? So I indulged her impulse buy. She'd been into the shop before she met me after I finished work. It's true that if I'd bought the lotion before supper, I probably wouldn't have had the second glass of wine.

But I've been in a celebratory mood. There's been a floor plan rearrangement at the Guardian. My locker was shunted along a couple of feet and while this was being done, it was opened and all the stuff was taken out and put in a box.

I was not told about this and when I went to look for a pullover - for it is stored in the locked - the locker door was open and there was nothing inside.

All gone. Tennis racquet, tennis shoes, magazines, everything. I was peeved to say the least as the jumper was one of the things I salvaged from my dad's wardrobe after he died.

It is a polyester extravaganza and it is like the type made famous in Scandi police series.

Everything was eventually recovered. The box was placed on the other side of the room and a kind rearrangement supervisor ushered me to where it was.

She thanked me for not being angry or aggressive.

But it did strike me as a poor way to treat the employee. Not even a note on the locker door to say the stuff had been removed Jonny or Jemima X on this number.

So for the best part of Sunday and until around 1.30pm on Monday I had no idea whether the stuff had been stolen or lost.

I said to my mum at supper time I should sue for mental cruelty. I'd have a strong case especially with some of the stories I have to edit.

I read and re-read and then wait for five minutes to wake up again and read again. They often don't make any sense. No thread.

No discipline.

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