Wychwood

Pulling onto Cheltenham racecourse tonight to find various marquees and stages in place was a familiar enough feeling. Arriving to help out in what was an as yet fairly undefined and vague role was not quite so familiar.

Over dinner at the Turkish restaurant, I broach the subject, “errr Pete, what is it you want me to do at Wychwood?”. He vaguely reassures me that it will work itself out and I will find a way to be useful as things develop, but the nagging doubts aren’t entirely subdued, I’m used to knowing how I will earn my keep.

Stuart and I are staying at Pete’s for the duration of the festival (and I got in first so baggsied the spare bedroom, with the world’s most comfy bed– yay!). Taking one day off work is all I can afford and if I’m going to be bright and breezy for my meeting on Monday morning, some decent sleep over the weekend is a must.

Over a late night cuppa we sit in Pete’s kitchen as he checks his emails for the day (oh the joys of a wireless broadband house!).

Pete starts chuckling, “I just started replying to Sarah D, telling her that I didn’t have the Greenbelt info she needed for Saturday’s Planning Group meeting and she would need to contact you. It’s just occurred to me that I should really know that you’re not going to be on your computer between now and then!”.

It transpires the data she’s after is actually a file of nearly 4Mb so even at home I wouldn’t be sending that over a dial-up connection.

But of course I’m not my home am I and I just happen to have that very file on my iShuffle in my pocket…

As George would say, don’t you just love it when a plan comes together.