Big Poo Day

There's a visit from the Big Nobs (is there a theme running through this evening's posts?) happening tomorrow. The Big Swinging Dick's Stress-o-Meter has exploded. It is bad enough that he couldn't cancel his course to be on site on the day, but the schedule he drew up put Bolshie Book Worm in charge on the day in question, rather than his hand-styled minion. The prospect of BBW giving some top brass the guided the tour has put him in a strop of epic proportions.

After yesterday's dramas, which involved me having no opportunity to complete my work as I went and necessitated leaving a pile of clearing up for The Novice, I came in to find pretty much exactly what I'd feared. She hadn't coped and had worked her self up into such a state that BBW, who is quite as much an connoisseur of vodka as the Novice and therefore is ordinarily one of her vociferous apologist, had to admit as much even before I'd been in long enough to gauge the scale of the disaster. What made things worse was a failure of The System overnight. Our supplier's support team managed to get the problem fixed by about half eleven, in time for me to get around to clearing up all The Novices little messes. And leave things in good order for her.

And Senior Frustrated Novelist gets to clear up after her tomorrow. Which is a splendid example of shovelling shit into someone else's lap.