bad wood

I did in fact go on the Forum, by the way. The sandwiches were good and there was cake also. It was even permissible to say that they were the real reason you were there, and I know this because I did. You were even allowed to slag off Get Selling. Wait a minute, that was my idea! I lapsed into a sulky silence. Been there, done that - in fact, wasn't this whole Forum thing just a pale imitation of my blog? I did consider volunteering for one of the roles they were offering. Deputy minute-taker sounded about the level of responsibility I was seeking. But that was snapped up; and besides, after a couple of hours in the meeting, the only note I'd succeeded in taking on my improvised pad was - for some reason - the word 'chair'.

The point of the whole thing is to decide on one 'issue' to be taken forward to the MD; to be handed to him - presumably - in an envelope marked 'Fuck you'. Which makes it all rather like a competition. 'More pay and better working conditions for Forum representatives', anyone?

A woman rang the shop for a book called Essex Woods, though it transpired that the book was actually called Essex Moods. Moods, woods, apparently it was all the same to her, she still wanted it. Essex Moods, by the way, is a book of picturesque photos of Essex landscapes, not - as it should be - a collection of photographic portraits of surly chavs.