Moving home is not the easiest of tasks. The time and effort involved is mind boggling, then the hidden expenses, always a killer. We have just moved a clients whole business system to a new server and for the last week and a half that has consumed my every waking minute. Make no mistake, a very valuable client and we have watched him grow over the last 6 years.
Because of that we have put in many hours of work, late into the night and early in the morning. His comment was a universal classic.
“Well if this is what happens when you move me to a new server, I am a little worried about your ability to keep my business going.”
He pays the bills so it is prudent just to ignore. ‘My Captain’
Moving on. Gary and Dan have gone to Manchester to see SA play Oz in the One Day World Cup. Actually a bit of a rubber, as SA can not get into the semi final but Australia are in. De Koch batted well, Dassie van der Russen looks promising, the thing with Dassie is he can score quickly, he has got those eyes. Looks to be a fascinating game.
Derek is away, getting married in Greece. He calls it the Big Fat Crete Wedding and from the sounds of it there are quite a few people going over for this celebration of two star struck lovers, tying the knot on a Crete island. Susan wanted to go but unfortunately my passport has still not arrived. Maybe next time.
Summer is here and with it the sun. Never a big fan of summer and this hot spell we are having does make life uncomfortable. We have the international sand polo event on Sandbanks beach this weekend. International? Really, maybe there is a Spanish rider taking part, probably lives in Bournemouth. Any way there will be horses chasing a little ball thing on the beach and many, many people will pay many pounds to sit and watch while sipping champagne and nibbling savoury pastries. We alway seem to be walking JB when they are galloping here, there and everywhere. Doesn’t seem to bother him and as I have never been a horsey person, leaves me wondering what all the fuss is about. I wonder what size poo bags they have, must ask the next person I see on a horse. The beach wardens are very strict about picking up your dogs poo and rightly so, some of those super over protective children will think it is a sausage and wolf it down before mummy brings out the carrots and celery lunch boxes.
I am sitting in Sandbanks Cafe, actually on the terrace, admiring the view of the sea and those playing on the beach. It is that time of the season when the school have not broken up and the beach goers are slightly more conventional in their swimming attire. There is one exception I can see, looks like a beached whale, but is in fact a rather large lady lying on her back, mouth open, probably snoring and one of her ample beasts has escaped the confines of her tight swimsuit. Gravity is a cruel master, a beach warden walks past and is taking great pains to not see her but also check if she is still alive, do not envy his job.
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