15 March 2016, 7 pm
I go to a party to celebrate someone having written a book. It is probably a very good book, although I cannot say for certain because it is about designs. I lost interest in designs some time ago, when I realised they involved art rather than science. The fact that I do not personally know the book or its author does not stop me from raising a celebratory glass or two. I feel it is my Presidential duty, and as everyone knows I take my Presidential duties very seriously. Back at the flat, I accidentally catch sight of my reflection sideways-on. I say “accidentally” because someone in my position does not deliberately stand sideways-on to a mirror, particularly after having raised a celebratory glass or two. The accidental visuals confirm what my clothing has been telling me for months, by no longer meeting in the middle. The fact is, the Presidential lifestyle has led to a Presidential waistline. Everywhere I go, people ply me with alcohol, canapés, cakes and biscuits, lunches and dinners and more cakes and biscuits. They are naughty people. And then I get back late, feeling tired and lonely, and so naturally I have to eat chocolate, because that is exactly what chocolate is for. And although I go for a run most mornings, there is only so far you can run in 45 minutes and it is not far enough to burn off a day’s worth of Presidential duties. I am pretty devastated by the sight of myself sideways-on. Luckily, I have some chocolate in the fridge to cheer me up. The logical part of my brain knows this is not ultimately the solution. But the logical part of my brain is small compared to the other parts and has given up arguing. The chocolate tastes good. And I have after all had a day of difficult Presidential duties.
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15 March 2016, 11 am
Today, CIPA’s humble and obedient President is at a special meeting of the Internal Governance Committee. It is special because we are reviewing last year’s accounts and our new auditors have come in to help us. They offer a few suggestions. For example, when we publish the accounts, we should include a little note from Mr Davies to explain the financial highlights of the year, so that people don’t have to look at the numbery parts, which are complicated. I’m not convinced that anything financial would count as a highlight as such, but Mr Davies is a creative kind of chap so perhaps he will think of something. The auditors say that the little note should talk about our KPIs and how well we’ve delivered on them. There is an awkward silence. We don’t want to admit that we don’t have any KPIs. KPIs are Key Performance Indicators, which is basically management bollocks, and we would never get that past Council. Then they say that if we are going to do things Properly, we should keep a register of senior people’s interests, and they do not mean like stamp collecting or steam trains, they mean like being a director of the company that supplies CIPA’s toilet rolls. We must include Related Parties on our list, which means our spouses and our grown-up children, and I am thinking what a lovely idea, being able to find out from CIPA what my children are up to, because they sure as hell don’t tell me. The final suggestion is that we must look out for cyber attacks. Cyber attacks are nasty and dangerous so we must be Vigilant about them and we should get some training in being Vigilant and Cyber-savvy. They say the latest form of cyber attack is an email which purports to come from your CEO and tells you to transfer £50,000 immediately into an off-shore bank account. Apparently many people have been duped into thinking this is a real instruction from their real Chief Executive, and have thereby generously directed real corporate funds into the hands of jewel thieves and arms dealers. We laugh. We would easily spot a fake CIPA Chief Eggsek email, we say, because a real CIPA Chief Eggsek email would have swear words in it. Also, Mr Davies would know we don’t have £50,000 left any more, not after we transferred that £75,000 to Columbia for the new coffee machine. 14 March 2016, 8 pm
I shall not miss this suitcase-packing ritual. It takes an awful lot of paraphernalia to keep someone like me on the road, and an awful lot of time to make sure the paraphernalia is packed in the right places before I set off. And it must be done before I go to bed, because in the morning it will be Dark, and also in the morning I will be only a quarter conscious and will need all my available cognitive skills to eat my muesli. The EyePeePee is very good at this type of thing, being a well-travelled person, and I admire her for this although with a slight sense of disbelief. She can carry everything she needs in less than a cubic foot of easy-care essentials, and still manage to have her laptop, her gym kit and some very posh pairs of shoes to hand. I do not wear posh shoes. As everyone knows, I have no skin care routine to talk of, own very few items of makeup and when it comes to choosing my outfits, always opt for the crumpled look. So it shouldn’t be this difficult for me to pack, really it shouldn’t. Of course, the VeePee would say that I pack in too much detail. To which there is an obvious retort, considering he doesn’t always make it to meetings let alone have his toothbrush with him. In fact, the last time we were both at a meeting with our suitcases, I had to lend him some paracetamol because he had a headache from too much not being on holiday, and he was glad enough then of my detailed paraphernalia. If you see what I mean. 14 March 2016, 6 pm
Oh crumbs! Now Mr Lampert wants me to write to The Queen. Writing to The Queen was not on my Presidential bucket list, but come to think of it, perhaps it should have been. What an honour indeed, to be one of the few CIPA Presidents that gets to ask HM to help celebrate a Charter Anniversary! Or it would be, if I weren’t a republican at heart. Mr Lampert has come up with a draft, which is less shouty than his usual shouty stuff and sounds like it comes from a proper President rather than from me. I shall have to personalise it a bit. “Dear Queen,” I shall write, “Although I don’t myself approve of monarchies, I know a lot of CIPA members think you’re the Bee’s Knees, and you did after all grant us a Royal Charter, so how about popping round to help us celebrate our 125th Charter Anniversary? Yes, I know! 125 years already! Doesn’t time fly when you’re enjoying yourself? And we do all enjoy ourselves at CIPA (LOL). Anyway I bet even you don’t remember granting us our first ever Charter, despite being so ancient, but we can remind you all about it when you come. Some of our members actually do remember; we wheel them out on special occasions; you can meet them if you like. “We have a spanking new coffee machine now. Although obviously we can do tea if you prefer. Or even cocktails: if we do cocktails Mr Roberts will probably pop along too, if that’s OK with you. Either way, we can get in some special biscuits because there’s a Marks and Spencer® just up the road. Does Your Majesty have a particular favourite? “It will be good to exchange ideas about how to be the head of an institution. I’ll bet Your Majesty has a few tips I could make use of! I shall ask Unlucky Gary to look after your handbag while we have a proper girlie chat. “Oh, but, by the way, do you mind not wearing your tiara and crown jewels and stuff? They would make my Presidential swimming gala medal look so naff. And perhaps best not bring Philip this time, seeing as CIPA’s so keen on diversity; I’d hate to have to punch him.” Apparently I should close my letter with the words “I have the honour to be, Madam, Your Majesty’s humble and obedient servant.” Yeah, right. When have I ever been anyone’s humble and obedient servant? Even CIPA Council, despite its very best efforts, has been unable to tame me to that extent. Anyway, I realise I must now postpone my plan to hide the Queenly photograph, which Mr Lampert’s letter says takes pride of place on the wall and which must therefore not be found being used upside down as a drinks tray. 14 March 2016, 4 pm
I keep getting asked for feedback on IPO employees, for their reviews and appraisals and whatnot. I do not know why people are asking me. I understand nothing about appraisals and even less about whatnots. Nor am I exactly the perfect employee myself, having been self-employed for fifteen years and unable even to satisfy my accountant that I was worth the money. At least the CIPA Pee doesn’t get appraised. I imagine there are one or two CIPA stakeholders whose feedback might be less than complimentary. Even the constructive ones are likely to say that I need to keep my mouth shut more and sweep up the straw after myself. “What does the CIPA Pee do well?” Provide biscuits. “What could she do better?” Concentrate on eating them. 13 March 2016, 9 pm
I am writing my bucket list, of things to do in my final two months of Presidential Power. So far it looks like this:
Hmm. Possibly I need a little longer than two months. |
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