Apropos of nothing.

I have finally got round to posting a picture of myself. Well, I say myself, if you look hard enough, and have a good enough memory, you will recognise Arthur Mullard adorning my blog page. An inspiration for all those like me that are a little larger and a little uglier than the rest of the populace.

Today is a Thursday (go on, check your calendar if you don't believe me), which means the return of Thursday man. He isn't a superhero, though he may enjoy wearing tights, I really couldn't say. In the words of the Queen song Flash "He's just a man, with a man's..." what, we're still not sure.

The thing with Thursday Man his voice seems to be set on permanently low volume, which doesn't come in handy when our desks are in each corner of an office 30 feet long by 24 feet wide, and the radio is on, the airconditioning unit is on. I have learnt that by simply smiling and nodding occasionally, Thursday Man is content and soon lapses back into silence.

He also has that annoying habit where he will just launch into conversation, without addressing anybody first, so me and my boss can never tell who he's talking to. Very disconcerting.

Oh dear, it seems this week, the first after my lovely holiday, is slowly drawing to a close. Next week will not be nice.

Sunday will be hard.