With Mudtain* Mayhem just a few days away, this photo seemed entirely appropriate. Only last night was I covered in sticky red mud, flayed by aggressive vegetation and bitten by creatures known only as ‘lumpy arm givers’. Nothing to do with riding, I was merely visiting that special type of club so loved by the FIA president. Allegedly.
So muddy right now, and a storm has recently decamped – with a look of some permanence – on the doorstep. The forecast could be better spelt ‘meteorological portent of imminent doom‘ which fully justifies both my smugness and the decision to turn down a last minute offer to ride. Instead, my plan is to trundle the five miles to Eastnor Castle, truffle my way through the beers of various riding friends, before wobbling home to a bed that is neither on the floor or inside a moist tent.
Since I’m into recycling other people’s work, here are some more. Finally the BBC takes up the righteous cause of StupidSpeak(tm) – one of the many curses of corporate culture. I don’t know if it is rooted in self importance or the belief that turd polishing somehow takes the eye away from what is, at the end of the day, going forward, still a turd.
Either way, my focus is on teaming leading an idea pool to cruxmollify** the low hanging fruit, through a process of seamless boundary interactions, into a organisationally transitioned leveraged key outcome.
In layman’s terms, I am off in search of a cup of tea.
* It really should be called “2000 Lycra fetishists chasing each other round a small field. Reasons unknown“.
** I may have made that word up. But because Corporate sheep follow StupidSpeak, I shall experiment with it in some finely crafted emails. I fully expect someone will ‘let me know it is right on their radar‘