Double-O is going through one of those periodic “set the strategy” exercises. You know, the sort of thing most corporates go through every few years – resetting the strategy / goals / plans on how to get there, calling all staff to important meetings (or “conversations” in this case) to “get them on board” and make sure they understand “what it means for them” (the answer is invariably “fuck all”).

I dunno, maybe I am old and cynical, but I have seen so many of these through my working life – different companies; different strategies – that I really can’t get enthusiastic about it.

I remember when Horrorcle UK took its entire staff to Wembley Conference Centre to listen to a bunch of senior execs spout on about the CEO’s latest wheeze. I can’t remember much about it, except sitting on uncomfortable chairs in a cold and draughty conference hall (cos without scenery and furnishings conference halls are pretty stark) and a crap lunch eaten out of a plastic box (because the message was “so important we had to work through lunch”).

I was woken one morning this week to the sound of birdsong. I should point out that there has been birdsong every morning, but I was woken by it only once. We tend to think that birds sing because they are happy (probably because that’s what we do), but a lot of birdsong has territorial motives. That pleasant “chirrup chirrup” we hear is birdy-speak for “Come and get it if you think you’re hard enough” or “you’re going home in the back of an ambulance”.

Today I’ve done a bit of tidying up for Mum’s visit. Cleared out a couple of drawers so she has somewhere to put clothes. Also saw that the instructions on the new bed sheets said to wash before first use, so I did that. “Wash with items of a similar colour”. You’re having a laugh. How many items of a turquoise / aquamarine hue do you think I have?

Then went for a short walk round the town. I bought a roll on the way, intending to eat it by the river, but found the ducks too pester-some.

Here are a few photos of springtime in Smalltown.

This swan has built a nest right next to the bridge.

I call these the Friendly Trees, on account of the way that they appear to be waving.

I think the brown ones will grow into mallards, and the yellow ones into white ducks – based on the ratios of types of adult ducks and sproglet ducks respectively.

Of course, they may grow up to be chickens, but I somehow doubt it.

Almost makes me regret that I have duck for dinner tomorrow.

And this is a different swan

Stupid quote of the week? Woman in the bakery who, when I said I was going to the river asked "is the swan still pregnant?". In the interests of fairness and honesty, I should probably point out that she did correct herself a couple of minutes later – but hey, it’s my blog and she’ll probably never read it, so who cares?

While in town the sproglet from next door saw me and gave me a cheery wave as she was being pushed along in her buggy on the other side of the road. This must say something about the recognition powers of sproglets, as she’s never really seen me that far away from home and has never initiated the wave before. Or maybe she has but I've never noticed before.

While tidying I found my box of marbles and badges from when I was a sprog (by "found" I mean "decided they couldn’t stay on the bedroom windowsill any longer"). No, I don’t know why my badges and marbles were in the same box either, but they have been for as long as I can remember so there must have been some good reason for it at the time.

Had a nostalgic reminisce through the marbles – the oners, the fourers, the chinas (which were worth double) and the china fourers. Then wondered "do I really still want them" and decided "no" so dropped them in the dustbin. I’ve kept the badges though – put them into my archives. And here photos of a few of them.