Out of the Frying Pan
‘Good morning Sarah.’ I said as I strode through her office on my way to my own. Even as I passed her she was on her feet, note book in hand following me. It was five past nine on Monday morning, and I had just returned this morning on an overnight flight from London and was dog tired. The meetings had gone on much longer than I had needed or anticipated but finally the matter was sorted and we could move on to the next phase. I sat in the leather chair behind my desk and Sarah, my ever...