Wednesday, 5 December 2012

Working 9 till 5

...what a way to make a's enough to drive you crazy if you let it. Oh Dolly, you were a wise woman, but you only sang about half of it. Yet again, this blog veers away from running and riding, and more towards, well, runners and riders today as it happens as I spent the day in the Royal Box at Kempton Park racecourse, but generally, work.

In a way, I can't complain; I quite often don't do a lot of exercise at this time of year, and the work I'm doing is QI. For example, I was at Kempton today, and will be tomorrow, facilitating a session with the Board of a major finance company sorting out their strategy and structuring the programmes they need to support it. It's not rock 'n' roll I grant you, but neither is it watching Jeremy Kyle. Or worse, being on Jeremy Kyle.

It's just so all-consuming. I haven't had two consecutive days in the same place since the start of November, I genuinely can't count the number of hotels I've stayed at, I quite often can't remember where I am geographically, and my travel wash bag is so dirty my mother would be ashamed. And all that is still just about cope-able with, until something out of the ordinary takes place. Last weekend I was supposed to be at Hard Rock Hell [annual heavy metal festival for the uninitiated] for the 4th time, and only managed to make it for 1 of the 4 possible nights. It was a really good night as it happens, but 8 hours of rock, half a litre of vodka, and a 3am bedtime were just enough to push me over the edge into sore throat and general knackeredness territory.

Normally Mrs K and I just crawl off home and spend a few days recovering after HRH. (For the dubious, it's fantastic fun, some bands you haven't heard of are great, and it's attended by some of the funniest-looking but nicest people you could wish to meet. My highlights were Quireboys and Ugly Kid Joe, who you might know. I was also truly gutted to miss Dr Feelgood on Sunday). This time however, I was on the road south at 5 am on Monday, taking over 5 hours to get to work, courtesy of motorway idiots crashing into each other. So work started at 10.30, till 7, when I had another hours driving. Yesterday was a 14 hour day in central London.

So, it's with enormous delight I'm writing this from my hotel bed, doing nothing, fed, watered and with the prospect of 8 hours sleep. Even better, Friday is our Christmas Do, which is less of a Do, and more of a Day. We're at the palatial Cliveden, which is so posh it was mentioned in one of Harry and Paul's 'when life was simpler' sketches recently. We've got spa treatments, a private dinner, and our personal drinks trolley in the library afterwards. HRH to Cliveden in 5 days, talk about ridiculous to sublime. Or is it the other way round?

Then, on Saturday, we open up Kinseys Khristmas Tree Emporium for another year. There's 100 of the buggers waiting to be flogged. 99 to be precise, Mrs K did one today. That too, is good fun. Sunday - a miracle may happen; a bike ride for me. Let's see, this space.

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