“When you get back to Ireland, give us a shout” said my cheeky brother No 2.
Proof positive that I’ve been away from the telephone line that connects Cork to Limerick – since Ireland beat Scotland.
I’m sticking to the lurgy – that relieves me of all guilt & shame.
LOCATION
I’m writing this on Friday morning in Café Beva over a (too) large helping of scrambled eggs on a warmed plate.
Roger didn’t make it. Eoghan is preparing for rugby in Rome. The Wiffe has Louis in the wood. De daughter was asleep.
TEAMWORKING
Compelled to go beyond pony-riding to hockey by an exponentially expanding ambition, I morphed phone-called chat.
“Isn’t teamwork in sport ideal preparation for civics & working in a shop?“
Don’t shelf-fillers & managers need to work as a team with common sense of purpose, and inter-dependence?
A notion that welled up like lava.
Has the Harvard Business Review published a paper on this?
From Bath to Cork with baby Grace 