What a difference a day makes – so three days should really lift the soul. The offer this week of a work trip to Paris has me giddy with excitement.
I was due to go last year, until it was announced that our French colleagues would be coming to London, rather than the other way round. My plans for a stroll among the beautiful artwork in the Louvre became a tour of the mean streets of Lewisham instead.
This year, however, the trip is definitely on. I have even been given dates – Thursday 9 and Friday 10 July.
Because I can’t make it to St Pancras station from Brighton for the crack-of-dawn train to Paris, I was offered the choice of taking the Eurostar the night before and staying in a hotel sans collègues. No prizes for guessing how many nanoseconds it took me to make my mind up on that score.
Quite what is on the actual itinerary for the jaunt remains to be seen, but that’s just detail.
Presumably, given that I work in housing, there will be a visit to some flagship developments. Because managing our communications is my role, I’ll ask to meet my counterparts so I can see how they approach the tricky task of reaching their customers.
I have agreed with work to turn the trip into a long weekend. Damon will join me on Friday evening and we’ve arranged to meet our friend Michael and his partner for dinner on the Saturday night.
“My colleagues are already referring to the trip as a jolly. I am sure it will be anything but.”
My colleagues are already referring to the trip as a jolly. I am sure it will be anything but. I’ll be acting as interpreter for our chief executive as we visit Paris’ largest housing association. With over 120,000 homes to their name, they’re a very big fish in the capital.
Hopefully, there will be lots to learn – plus some time for dining and shopping, of course…