Like I really need specs to make my eyes look bloodshot!
My desk seems to be the end point for a form of domestic long-shore drift whereby miscellaneous bits of crap that no one ever takes responsibility for arrive.
Not me, they say looking down their noses at another useless gewgaw. Well not me either, son.
How does it happen that despite my best efforts all the stuff that belong to no one ends up here?
Look, this is just one aspect of the detritus-strewn place I call work.
Of course, this is nothing new. But it was brought to mind by a visit to the office of Jill Brown Media.
Jill, who is expert at these things, was offering me some advice on how I might improve my presentation technique - or at least not be such a big blouse about it.
Anyhow, Jill was telling me about how she wants to make her already very comfy workplace less officey. To this end she was putting in a fish tank and some bits of art.
Maybe she'd like me to send her some bloodshot eyeball glasses or a selection of other random toy parts just to make it feel more like (my) home...
