Its the first Friday of the month, and that can mean only one thing.
So there I was, minding my own bees wax, when my computer pinged to tell me that an email had arrived. And this one was different; very different.
For one thing, it wasn’t offering to sell me viagra. For another, it wasn’t accusing me of being Mr Moody Pants for reporting another demolition accident or threatening to “duff me up good and proper” for doing my job as a journalist. Nope, this email contained an exciting (you could tell it was exciting because it was written ENTIRELY IN CAPITALS) and heartfelt (you could tell it was heartfelt because it began “To My Dearest One”) offer.
Turns out my ship has come in; I’ve hit the jackpot; struck gold AND paydirt; I am about to be holding more folding than the Maitre d’ at a trade association’s anniversary luncheon.
Or am I?
