What I want to do when I grow up.

A pilot. A professional footballer. A psychologist. A teacher. A TV presenter. An estate agent. A hypnotherapist. A Ghostbuster. An inventor. A stand-up comedian. A photographer. A journalist. Many and varied things, none of which remotely relate to what I do for a job now. But you make do. You plug on. You grin and …

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Whose work is it anyway?

This afternoon I was in a meeting at work. It was one of those meetings which had no obvious purpose, but still filled its allotted time. One of those meetings which turned into people, justifiably, moaning about being overworked with no light at the end of the tunnel. One of those meetings which made you …

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