I'm a giver

K and J are up North training as part of the roll out we are doing. 6am start, long trip, normal technical problems and a full day of babysitting training - basically everything you expect in project land. As the day goes on, and on, and on, the thought of a nice relaxing night with a bucket of wine becomes more and more important.

My phone rings at 7pm, it's K. 'Ah Frit, can I please have a catch up with you?' Not unusual, she carried on. 'Julia's lip is on the floor. And quivering.'

Oh dear God - rock bottom on day one of a twenty day roll out - bugger. 'What's wrong?' I asked with a due sense of apprehension and dread.

'Frit, the bed is like a canoe, there are cobwebs on the roof, it's dark and dingy, there's no room service, it is right next to the road. Frit, it is f*&king awful - Julia has tears welling up in her eyes!'

The profound sense of relief I felt at that point is hard to put into words - I had feared something serious.

But - being the thoughtful, benevolent and mushy boss that I am - I took it upon myself to send Junior a reassuring text before bed - it read:

Three red pickles made half a sausage. The other half is still missing. Odd.... But they did not actually make it, so it's not actually missing. So you can sleep tight little one.

Now this was designed to help Junior off to sleep - which I very much hope it did. Because it keep me up for bloody hours!

If the three red pickles set out to make a sausage that was half the size of an existing sausage - and they did this, then, it is that they made what they intended. That is a sausage - albeit half the size of a sausage it was fashioned from. But still 'the whole' of what they intended to make.

That kind of destroys the underlying premise of my goodnight tale. Annoying.