This time, it is my head of sales who has disgraced himself – leaving the footie field with ligaments in shreds on both sides of his ankle and a rather large and sinister lump on the worst side, which he cheerfully informs me is blood. Bruising sounds plebeian by comparison I suppose. Not therefore the best start to the week to find my senior management team reduced from three of us to two while vaguely attached to J via phone, email and msn. Both other managers and myself feeling thoroughly frustrated; things never seem to get on an even keel here. This was supposed to be a nice, quiet, relaxed week with everyone here for the first time in months and instead we are fire fighting… again. I wonder, yet again, if this is simply the sins of the small company or genuinely that we have rather a lot more dramas than our fair share, and come down in favour of the latter.