Somewhere in Ireland. January 2018
It was just the dog walker and me at Seapoint this morning.
And a lone swimmer.
So just two sane persons, and a dog, to enjoy the beautiful, cold, still, crisp morning.
After walking Luca to school, I headed for the Mistake Factory via the sea front. And took my time.
I made a 40 minute journey last an hour an 10 minutes.
It was beautiful.
I’ll walk Luca to school more often.
Now that I can walk. Again.
Had clocked just under 9 km by the time I read my first appallingly irritating email, and typed a reply which required all the willpower I could muster to sound professional.
For the walk back home in the evening, it was heavy fog and magic shadows.
These two walks almost made the big slice of Mistake Factory in between bearable.
I forge ahead, on this rapidly diminishing walkway between sea and sky.
At the other end, the promised land, the Mistake Factory and its many delights.
I forge ahead, between sea and sky.
Wet and dizzy and excited.
I run to thee, sweet Mistake Factory.
And the message. So profound, that it has to be copyrighted. Genius is in short supplies these days. And often gets copied. Without permission.
Permission. So crucial.
Rarely will a colonoscopy be more heralded, advertised, discussed, trumpeted, feared, debated or planned down to the most minute details.
Carlos still has 7 days to psyche himself up.
He asked me to keep this to myself. But I have overheard him discussing it at length with the receptionist. And B from Accounts. And S from Sales. And half of the mesmerised engineering department. And the cleaning lady from the 3rd floor. And his sister on Skype. And more importantly her GP husband on the phone.
I thought I’d discreetly add a reminder on our corporate wall calendar. The one used for the only thing that truly matters in the Mistake Factory: the holidays.