by John Passmore
I’ll be glad when things get back to normal. This roller-coaster of fortune is exhausting!
Today we were back to the grim reality. As a brand-new trainer, I had been keen to say “yes” when head office phoned to ask me to do a last minute business training in London today.
Tamsin, bless her, said “Go for it” and reorganised all the child-care I had been booked for – and off I went to London, allowing three-and-a-half hours for a two-hour journey so as to be absolutely sure of getting there on time.
The way I planned it, when I arrived an hour early, I could give out 50 cards and talk to my six.
But that was before I saw the sign about delays on the M25 and decided to take the North Circular. It’s years since I’ve been on this excuse for a road and it ate into the time like a crocodile with a bag of buns.
In the end I arrived 15 minutes early, looking cool and collected but having handed out nothing at all.
Never mind, there was always the journey home.
Too bad the M25 was even worse in the afternoon. By the time I got home, my todal stood at something like 15 cards. And here’s the interesting thing: Before writing this blog, I would probably have left it at that. But I was so embarrassed that the shame of not handing out my quota ovecame the embarrassement of giving cards to the parents at Owen’s opera rehearsal.
Even so I didn’t give them to everyone (which one day I would like to do) but I did give one to the other father who exchanged a few words as we stood waiting for the last scene to finish: “Look let me give you one of these. I give out 50 a day and I’m hoplessly behind. Have a look when you get him. It’s all about money.”
“Oh, thanks very much,” he said.
And once I’d done that, it was easy to say to the friend who had been keeping an eye on Lottie: “Thanks so much for looking after her. By the way, can I give you one of these. I’m behind on my quota.”
And she said “Thanks very much too”.
Why wouldn’t she?