I'm in the library and never have I sniffed more in a quieter place. I have my first cold of the winter, and it's probably just about the right time to have it. I'm busier than I can remember ever being. So much so that on Tuesday, I bought a diary. And a-wooosh, I'm full of feeling organised and amazing.
Only trouble is, I keep missing things. More precisely, phone calls. My phone is on its last legs and I need a new one, I admit it, I bow to defeat. So far, I've missed calls for a job interview and to get a table at Tynemouth market, so all my feelings of having everything in control are ebbing away, slowly and sadly.
So far I've been in every phone shop I can think of and have grown the cajones to ask idiotic questions like 'what's 3G?' and other things I'm sure you'd hear 80 year old luddites ask a tech savvy young man in a phone store. Problem is, I'm a potter. I know that the idea that we all live in wooden huts and bake our own bread is outdated, but not by much. I still have a cheat sheet to programme a kiln and lets face it, this blog isn't as pretty as it should be, it should be champagne and instead, it's Lambrini.
But my phone is a necessity, I text about a million times a day, mostly to my team of glass and ceramics fundraisers about things I need to do/have forgotten to do/need them to do pretty please. And it's difficult to organise things just via email, because grown ups are in charge of things, and some grown ups would rather do things voice to voice rather than email to email. This means I have to continue to brave terrifying jargon (what's a mega pixel, and how many do I want?) in order to have my megalomaniacal feelings placated.
Mini-deadline tomorrow, must dash. But lets all celebrate the joy that is a flow chart for one moment.
From the brilliant 344 questions that anyone can feel free to buy me.