Uptown Funk

We had our annual staff Christmas outing last night, which is a bit odd as both Debbie and myself are freelancers.

That means, of course, that we don’t have any employers (other than the tax man, the bank which gave us our mortgage, the VAT people, Kingston council who want paying each month for our potholed roads, those lovely road tax folk, etc) but we reckon that shouldn’t stop us enjoying what everyone else gets up to at this time of year.

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Under Pressure

I’m so obsessed with tidiness just now that I’m in danger of making a fastidious surgeon in an operating theatre look like a bin man rolling in mud.

As far as I’m aware I’ve never had OCD, but December is the month when I get the closest. In my case, OCD stands for my annual Organise Christmas Drive.

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Call Me Maybe

Stay with me to the end of this week’s blog. I promise it’s worth it.

Last week I was moaning about bad customer service, and if I thought things were going to get any better in the days ahead then I was sorely disappointed. I know I run the risk of sounding like a moaning git, taking things too seriously, worrying over the small stuff, but let’s face it. British tradesmen are hopeless, even the nice ones.

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I have a friend who makes a very successful living teaching people how to be nice.

It sounds simple doesn’t it? Common sense? Yet Nicky travels all over the world working for large retail outlets in order to show their staff how to respect the public and increase sales by being helpful and thinking of what the customer expects.

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We'll Meet Again....and Again

I’ve been putting it about recently.

There have been more sightings of me in clubs and bars than Johnny Walker, although I hasten to add I’m much smoother, and a lot cheaper. Come to think of it, maybe Johnny and I do have a couple of things in common. I don’t like ice or being drowned in water either, and you can get a headache if you have too much of us.

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Don't Leave Me Hanging On the Telephone

I’ve been filling in on BBC London 94.9 this week, a radio station that allows London to talk and get things off its chest, and my goodness how enjoyable it is sitting there listening, and occasionally contributing. Some want a conversation, while others need a soapbox. Either way it’s a hoot.

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