Returning to the office after any time away is always trying. The numerous phone messages to pick up, the pages of email to sift through, the post to open; all that catching up before you even start on the actual work in hand. Returning in January also involves many teetering boxes of Christmas decorations to negotiate a pathway through, abandoned packets of mince pies and other festive ephemera strewn across every surface. All of this is manageable. It is expected. I know where I am with it. What has really thrown me this week is the fact that my diary is not in its usual position on the desk. It is the source of all information, the first thing I look at when I sit down. It is where I write my to-do lists and reminders. Foolishly I believed good old ink and paper was a safer bet than the electronic interweb for storing such things. Oblivious to power cuts, immune to viruses, it even repels tea and biscuit crumbs more efficiently. And yet, here I am, with my diary 75 miles away. I never foresaw this turn of events.
This is what happens when you let your office be used as a dressing room by Tudor minstrels. They accidentally pack your desk diary along with their books and music and return to their own place and time.
I am hopeful that, even as I type, the Royal Mail is bringing my diary back to me with all speed. Until it arrives I am in a state of office limbo. Do I have any appointments today? Meetings? Training days? Did I arrange anything? I simply don’t know.
10 comments:
I wouldn't trust Royal Mail! If you can wait a month, maybe the thieves will return it on their minstrel cycle.
P.S. You were supposed to have been at the Duck and Gynaecologist at lunchtime for topless darts. Anne Widdecombe took your place, sorry.
I thought the Tudor minstrels did their thing on 15th December - did you really not miss the diary until after Christmas? That mulled wine must've been better than you let on...
So where were you today?
Reg - I can't believe you didn't wait for me.
Cogidubnus - the thing is, I didn't need my 2007 dates until it actually was 2007, which is (goes to check diary....damn!)round about now.
Anonymous - were you my 2 o'clock?
Hope your future life returns soon from the 16th century.
Love the image of reginald's *minstrel cycle*.
That's okay. I left my brain on a train somewhere on New Year's Eve. Not just do I have no clue as to where I'm supposed to be, who I'm supposed to be speaking to and why, I can no longer remember how to dress myself. I appear to have worn this jumper inside out all day... oh dear...
Thanks, Stitchwort. Through clever detective work and pestering of colleagues I am beginning to piece together my schedule for the week ahead.
Boz - at least you have enough basic functioning left to get online!
see the other half, being A Geek, keeps banging on about using my outlook calendar to run my diary.
which is all well and good, but not altogether much use when i am standing on a train platform trying to remember what time i'm supposed to be meeting someone and, indeed, what i am meeting them for.
i am a luddite. fact.
The thing is, Doris & Surly Girl, had the melodious cutpurses managed to inadvertently remove your computer, your diary would be safe and well on the Exchange server waiting for you to access it from another machine on the network. You could also synchronise your appointments, e-mail etc on your PDA to take with you wherever you go.
Another advantage of the digital option is the wonderful invention of the backup, rendering all your precious e-things totally safe.
Oh dear... I've embarrassed myself now, haven't I :O(
Yes, Surly Girl, that's exactly how I feel about such matters. Electronic devices are all well and good, but mine seem to inevitably come into contact with tea or go through the washing machine or the battery is flat or something, whereas with my little book I can access the information whenever! Well, whenever it's in the same county, at least.
Troll Hunter - that's all well and good, but see above.
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