Folk Wisdom, Pre-Facebook

If you're old enough to remember life before Facebook, then I'm sure you'll be familiar with the grubby sheets of untidy typescript that were pinned to scruffy noticeboards, were sellotaped to workshop calendars and found their way to 101 other useful (or not) places in the factories and offices of the kingdom.  Here would be found 'Ten Key Rules of the Office' or '25 Uses for a Paper Clip'.

One of these came to mind this morning. It purported to be a guide to performance appraisal and in the section headed 'Communication' it suggested that someone who far exceeded requirements might talk to the Almighty, someone who merely out-passed them talked to angels and someone who just met requirements would talk to himself.  Those needing improvement would argue with themselves, while complete failures would lose those arguments.  I'm sure you get the picture of the sort of rubbish that amused us in those far-off days.  Living alone, I'm usually talking to myself or, put another way, I voice my thoughts aloud; sometimes I discuss plans with myself in strange accents or foreign tongues.

As I confessed recently, I've just started working a couple of days a week in the warehouse of the local hospice, which has tightened up some of the loose time in my average week.  Last week, the senior driver-cum-transport manager there was planning cover for his holiday and, being short of a replacement driver for Wednesday, asked if I would be willing to fill the gap.  As a one-off, I accepted the challenge and said I would, making adjustments and sacrifices in order to do so; earlier this week I had been debating with myself the wisdom of accepting this invitation to broaden the skill-base that I'm offering.

The occasion arrived and - with a confidence that, frankly, surprised me - I clambered aboard this box van that I'd never driven before and, after finally finding out how to start the engine, set it in motion towards the local roads.  The day went well and, as a bonus, I discovered on my return a chair outside that was destined for scrap, which was in considerably better condition than the one on which I would otherwise be sitting as I write this blog.  A beneficial exchange was duly made that would probably not have been possible had I not been working until this morning as would have otherwise been the case.

Today, spending all the time at home, I have been available to open the windows for painters to refresh the outside of the block, I have dusted and cleaned to an extent that exceeds normal practice and I have mended a bookcase that was in need of a couple of new pins in the back. I can also make suitable preparations to attend a conference tomorrow, some two-and-a-half hours' drive away.

As I discussed with myself today the merits of making this exchange, my alter-ego adopted a Yorkshire accent and told me, 'Tha wert reet!'