Hopefully, thanks mostly to the people around me, my work at Tornado is done. I've dragged it on a bit but at least it works. I'll pop in tomorrow to check it's all OK and ensure that I get paid.
A quick churn up the motorway to see the boys at FTEL, my first company. Surprisingly (not), it's exactly the same faces as when I stuck my head nervously round the door in April 1993. Still, in the following six years we had a riotous non-commercially-successful time. Our leader, Fat Bloke, has had to chop things down a bit as the market has gone flat. Mind you, I wasn't expecting them to remember quite so clearly the day I jiggered my back and was carted off to hospital. Apparently I've caused the company great expense every since by obliging them to send everybody on a lifting course.
Amrik, Jara, Mike and Simonp turned out to hear my tale. I'm sure there would have been others if they'd been bothered to walk twenty yards across the room to tell people I was coming up. However, I think each and everyone of us round the table more than happily falls into the I can't be arsed! category. I can just see the words falling out of everyone's mouths...
Amrik, naturally, did try and get me to take some jumpers back to India (which I declined) but it did remind me of one of the FTEL characters who came back from India one time and walked round the office trying to sell cheap waistcoats to everyone. I'm sure Amrik won't mind the comparison.
Copyright 2002 Ian Fitchet. All rights reserved.