Had a lovely meal for a friend’s non significant but nevertheless important Birthday, on. Saturday, they all are whan you get to my age. Revelations were spilt, fantastic tales told and we had to share cigarettes and roll ups like a bunch off students such was our unpreparedness, tobacco with only a few papers and a half handful of cigarettes between 4 or 5 armchair smokers, old enough to know better and yet not quite old enough to have planned better. Useless.

It was Michelin starred, so posh, and expensive which we managed to counteract with swearing and cutting the evening, not short but slightly truncated when we realised the taxis were here and we had not paid. This was our 1 really pricey meal, this year, its too expensive, I think, to go again, We could go on a 4 day package tour to Ag Nick, probably and according to the adverts. So on topic I thought to myself the following day, as I sat in the Fox tucking into an £8.25 Sunday roast, with Bathams and all the trimmings; Do I appreciate really fine food? Do I have a sophisticated palette? Not sure, I enjoy the company but less so the cost, I enjoy the food, its tasty and I’d never eat it usually but less so the cost. If I was a millionaire would I eat at these places? Would I?

The answer to that is hypothetical, because I’m not, and nor will I be judging by the work chat flying all over yammer of late. They hate us, and would rather we go away as was evidenced in today’s training course; Week 2, began as the biggest shambles yet, software not working, laptops crashing, my work being lost, and another work appearing on my laptop; magic. I had to call my boss to complain, it’s a shit show, and this afternoon was taught with no context as to what and why we were doing what we were. More of the same tomorrow. 

If I were a millionaire would I work at this place? Probably not, and I’d definitely advise others to steer well clear.

“Everything I once knew to be true is now a Lie”