Thursday, July 27, 2006

Workload induced ‘Bad Person Syndrome’

There are signs when I’m overloaded, I start forgetting things. Things I shouldn’t forget.

I went to all the meetings I had to go to at work. Right place, right time, armed with the right information. Check.

Tonight I should have had Book Group (in the end it got cancelled at the last minute) – however, I remembered to take the book in question with me to work. Check.

I remembered I was going to Stuart and K’s house straight from work to call in at their BBQ – Check.

I remembered this would the last time I would be seeing T and E before they emigrate to Canada (or return home in E’s case). Check.

I remembered to take their card and present with me in the morning. Check.

I remembered to ring S&K to see if I should bring anything, now that I would be staying for the BBQ and not rushing on to Book Group. Check.

I remembered to stop at Sainsburys and pick up said items. Check.

I remember to check emails at S&Ks and reply to urgent Greenbelt ones. Check.

All going well don’t you think?

Too well really. There has to be something I’ve forgotten.

That’ll be that the soiree has two purposes; farewell to T&E and happy birthday to KittyK (eldest ‘favourite niece’).


I am indeed a very bad person. A bad Aunt who does not deserve to be loved lots and lots.

In the course of the evening I try various attempts to wiggle out of it.

“Well what did you get me for my bir…oh yeah you made me that amazing Malteser cake”.

Damn that one backfired.

“Well you got loads of presents today, whereas I buy you stuff at other times, like the stuff I brought back from Scotland.”

Better, better.

“And frankly I’m still waiting for a thank you letter for that!”

Fifteen all.

A little later KittyK enquires:

“Aunty L1z? Do you have real nieces at all.”

“Yes I have one. And if she ever found out I called you lot my favourite nieces I’d be in trouble.”

“Do you see her much?”

“Once in a while, they live in London.”

“How old is she?”

“Just turned eight the other week.”

“Did you get her a present?”


Game, set and match to KittyK.

Hats off to her, a fine stitch up.

Mind you, when I got home, I found in my letter box a pink envelope from London. In it, in best eight year old hand writing, was a thank you letter from my 'real' niece.

I had to laugh.

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