Over at the Extremely Eminent and Respectable Institute of Edinburgh (EERIE), we are a group of highly educated people, who adhere to the strictest codes of confidentiality and professionalism in all that we do.

Except when it comes to payroll.

Our payroll is run in -house by the twinkly, gregarious, ever fragrant Kurt.

Whoever decided that Kurt was the person to run the in house payroll was obviously having an off day as far as adhering to strictest codes and etc. was concerned. The decision having been made though, presumably he remains posting salaries since the alternative would be to upset him.

They haven't noticed he's already upset.

There's only so long I can ignore the theatrical sighs and shuffling of paper at the next desk
........ what's up?
Oh nothing...just going through this shit about the pay rise....
??? Pay rise???? What pay rise??
Oh just the wee 4 per cent pay rise for managers....
Managers get 4%???
Mmmm hmmmm
We get 1.5 and they get 4%???
Oh unless you're a director - (passing over the spreadsheet) how'd you like that for Christmas??
Great, now we're all upset.

For the record, we do not do Mother's Day chez Mace.
Today this blog is a schmaltz free zone.

I spent my formative years with my own mother... and my mother does Mothers' Day Big time. No really Big Time. The cards have to be big enough, the presents expensive enough.
That's right cards and presents, one from each child. Or else... or else there is a Wall of Sulk.

Luckily said children could share on cooking the meal, or taking her out. Tsk, even my mother would have trouble eating two breakfasts in bed.

I digress. Let's just say, as a result of years of grief over a manufactured day of schmaltz, the Cherub has strict orders as to both the card (homemade), and the present (cost = nil).

To be honest, most years the Cherub's Mother's Day present to me is simply to accompany me to my mothers. Since, obviously, being a grandmother doesn't mean you don't get a Mothers' Day card (big) and Mothers Day present (expensive).

This year, though my mother is on holiday.

Can you improve on a bunch of daffs (wrapped in newspaper) and an afternoon tea at the local overpriced farm cafe?
Maybe a photo?

No. Nearly a perfect day then.