Those of you who stick with me through this year when I have pledged to postevery day will notice a distinct scent of panic about some of Friday’s efforts.
The scent will be especially pungent where a Friday occurs at the beginning of a month. I will work until 6.30 or so, meet my friends in the pub on the way home and then arrive home at about ten.
At this stage the simple thing would be to copy and paste the thing I spent all the way into Dublin and all the way back out working on.
Sometimes, though, that thing will not be quite ready, in fact I might be beginning to believe it will never be ready, and on those Fridays I will be stuck.
The Premier League in English football brought in a rule once where every manager had to attend a press conference after every game their team played in. Graham Taylor, not one of the great managers of all time, earned my undying respect when he turned up after a game in which his team had played badly, lost and had also been robbed blind by bad referring decisions.
He sat in front of the press, said “the rules demand that I attend a press conference. I have now done that,” then stood up and left.
I feel like that sometimes on Fridays. I’ve committed myself to be here, so I’ve done so, but feel that I’m cheating everyone, including myself.
I’m calling these events Friday Fillers. Thankfully, there can be only 39 more to go.