Sore feet

Spending 2 days stood on an exhibition stand devoid of punters is pretty miserable I think you'll agree. Still, not to worry, I'll duck out early and catch the 3.30 home from Paddington. I might even have time to microwave a lasagne for the wife, the old romantic that I am.

But no, Third Rate Western conspire against me once again, so instead I'm jammed in the standing-room-only 4.00. Maybe there'll be an announcement in a minute to tell me the buffet is open. Suspect the 200 people stood in the aisles between me and it might not be too pleased if I try to drag a coffee and a cheeseburger of dubious origin past them.

Never mind, at least I can look forward to the commute in the morning which, despite assurances otherwise, is still an Adelante.

Hey, did you notice I didn't slag off any frontline staff in this post? Woohoo!