On Friday morning my lovely postie dropped a handful of letters onto the mat and I instantly spotted one from BT. ‘That’s odd’, I thought, ‘we’ve been paper-free with them for ages’.
What was this?
Must be something urgent.
It was 10.30am, time for a fag break – I don’t smoke, but see no reason why I shouldn’t officially ‘down tools’ for 10 minutes, twice a day – and I flicked the kettle on for a brew then ploughed through the post, before heading off to a meeting.