Terror

13 Mar 2010

I admit. I'm terrified. I'm chewing my fingernails. I'm avoiding all thought of next week, because when I do I'm coming out in a cold sweat and I find myself trying feverishly do what I was supposed to do before it all starts, motivated finally by an inchoate but growing sense of utter helplessness.

I'm being sent on a training course. All week.

Now, normally this would be grounds for some sort of celebration, possibly involving cheese and pineapples on sticks. In this case the cocktail sticks would be best employed being stuck in my eyes. The course I'm being sent on is called PRINCE2 - the least convincing acronym since SPECTRE. It's all about project management and seems to consist of many documents and procedures of widely differing application but with all essentially the same name apart from the two or three letters. 87% of all definitions begin with the word "Project". The remaining 13% begin with the word Product. It would be easier to learn Sindarin. And there are exams. I haven't done exams since 1993. Apart from a half-hearted attempt to join the Inland Revenue in 1998, but I'm not sure that counts (because I certainly can't, hence my failure perhaps).

So forget fear of disease, terrorists, Nick Griffin, psycho killer badgers or a Tory Government; this is what's keeping me up at night.

That, and accidentally rolling over on to my iPod as it manages my sleep patterns and causing it to vibrate in protest. Oops.