I am developing a crick in my neck from holding the phone receiver against my ear with a hunched shoulder while I take screeds of dictation. I think I am going to have to start putting Boss on speaker phone when he calls in with his impulsive ideas, all requiring letters and notes to be written at break neck speed.

As he had pulled away from the office in his car on his way to a meeting, he had decided that our company sign on the exterior wall was not adequate. Could I research signage - metals that might be used, font, size, price, etc, etc. I wanted to say that I would do it directly after I had finished peeling my grapes, but thought better of it. As shop fascias flashed past him, he wondered aloud about plastic signage, about lighting, about lettering, about two and three dimensions.

Surely, even with a flipping blue tooth, this sort of driving must be illegal? Driving whilst one's mind is anywhere but on the road should be illegal. Gritting my teeth, and scribbling copious notes, my silent prayer is that he will run out of signal. And then, suddenly, he shouted, "Bloody cyclist!", and the line went dead. Oh dear.