I’m back!
What do you mean you haven’t missed me? You cut me deep, Shrek…
Okay, so I’ve been away for a month (hence my lack of bloggies on your screens). You have my sincere apple logies, and even if you haven’t missed me I just want you to know that I’ve missed you howibwy, howibwy.
But no more! I once again have a keyboard at my fingertips (while I was away I spent a total of 45 minutes at a computer and, the moment I entertained the thought of doing anything remotely work-related [as much fun as this is!] we had a rainstorm. In the Himalayas. In the middle of summer. I mean, what are the odds? So I guess you can call it time off for good karma, or something.).
Anyhoo, while I was away I took lots of photos, including some great posters and products that are abound over in India, and (somewhat bizarrely) I’ve got pictures of at least five different Indian dogs, amongst whom are two puppies and one old dog who slept with his lips and eyes open. You could definitely not teach any new tricks. In fact, he could barely do the old ones.
As for the marketing business on these shores, it’s a bit tough, having been away for a month…although…
...you know what it’s like when you’re away for so long. You come back and there’s a big pile of stuff to be done - laundry, cleaning, going through post, claiming cheese. Yes, you heard me correctly. Cheese. Before we went, my lovely wife and I purchased a bottle of J P Chenet‘s finest (well, it was white, so possibly not his finest), around which was draped a coupon for free Port Salut. “Hurrah!” we yelled on our arrival home, “We can eat tonight!” Alas, it was a tad more complicated than we thought. Having visited the website, it soon became apparent that we would not eat after all, as some problem with their server prevented us from printing off our voucher.
“What would you do?” I hear you cry, the saltiness of your golden, choking tears in fact the perfect accompaniment to the creamy texture of our fast-becoming not-so-favourite cheese. Well, I did the only thing I could do in that situation, the only avenue left for a desperate man teetering on the brink of starvation and the edge of madness, the last refuge for any travel-weary Brit refusing to be dealt that last fateful card of death in a world conspiring against him.
I wrote a letter.
Well, an e-mail actually. All very cordial, as you can well imagine, and lo-and-behold, a day later, the voucher can be downloaded. After a month of mountain roads and near-misses, it was actually quite a relief.
And I didn’t even have to out them on my marketing blog. Of course, I wouldn’t do that anyway, now would I?