Monday, 10 April 2017

Another one of those office-based James McAvoy directed shark attack dreams. #DadDirt



You know that you are a Great British Dad when...
...you are barely awake enough to remember last night.


I had the weirdest dream. Yet again, I was in a corporate building.

And a lift opened out onto someone in a nice suit in a really nice large office, with nice luxury dark-wood office furniture, but his colleagues had their backs to me, processing really grotty receipts, or invoices with receipts attached, and the receipts were for really cheap things like value fish fingers and low-quality plastic stuff, and there were comments from managers about how the forms they’re attached to are filled-in incorrectly. And the line of desks that is processing these forms was backed up right to the lift doors to maximise space. So it was nice but not nice.

Then the rest of the dream flipped between a nice city location, and James McAvoy directing a film of a shark attack, that I was helping him make (even though he had a full crew). And I got caught up in spray painting a small window hole in the floor that needed blocking up. But there was an elaborate pattern on the tiles (a little like the pattern of a Lego building my son had made).

None of this is in my Long-Suffering Wife's dreams and what they mean book.

It's 30 years old. I think I'm going to have to write an updated version.

In Biro.

Over my Wife's copy.

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Why can't I wear my shoulderless top to school today Daddy? (and why you cant go on holiday in term time) #DadDirt


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