Spring, although officially with us since last week, has suddenly sprung into action - the trees are budding, the bees are a buzzin' and dog walkers are taking their dorty hounds out 'to do their business' on the pristine parisienne pathways ...

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, my colleague in the office next to mine - who i never, ever, talk about and so doesn't have a derogatory name (yet) - has suddenly leapt into life and, in the feu de l'action, has smashed his face in big time.

The story is that the guy is just biding out his time until retirement day.

To describe him, i should really stick to basics : rumpled jacket and trousers .... grey and balding 'hair' ... dodgy hip, pacemaker ... has also, however, apparently been shaggin'seeing a younger member of staff.

No-one really knows what he does - I know exactly what he does but it just wouldn't be any fun to let on ;@)

Briefly : he arrives then *plouf* disappears again.

He seems to hibernate a lot.

He hides behind a stack of papers and suddenly springs awake, clutching armfuls of moldy looking A4 pages and aimfully yet abstractedly paces around - albeit with an extremely decrepid and painful looking gait.

Moving bushes come to mind ... i'm going to call him Russel !!!!

So, then ... to cut a long story longer : i've been working on a project for the last six to eight weeks - 30 people to train up from all over France during the next six months or so.

My main man Russel, between catnaps and shagfests, has been tinkering around with this internet thing and has managed to create a bit of a portal with role plays and pedagogical stuff on there for trainees who want to work in their free time (i take the piss, but i'm only jealous).

I managed to fix him up to go and participate in an induction course that my client has organised - the idea being that he (Russel) gets a feeling for where my client is at and comes up with something groovy.

Now, we have to be aware here, that the company is a major player in it's field and has the most beautiful offices that the gaulic God of architecture could possibly come up with - marble floors, guilded frescos, oppulence as far as the eye can see and the stomach can stand ... in a word : filthy stinking rich peoples pornography !

Russel arrives on site to take part as an observer, and in his own words (he's from 'up north') :

" Ahh'm sittin' thar list'nin' tuh yer blerk ... en aahm taakin' naughts, roight ... when yer man asks me ta gerrup an' intriduse mesel' ... ahhs stood oop, ahh walks, loike faff yerds when, bloody 'ell : me feet gits caught oop in t'kabels 'n' all sorts 'o' shoite an' ... ! wallop ! ... Ahhm smack doon on t'floor wif me heed ... blud 'n' teef all o'er t'place ... oi gorrup, 'ee mehhks me sit doon agin and calls the bloody sahperr pompyers ... "

Translation : the old dodderer gets called up to introduce himself, gets his dodgy leg caught up in the cables, goes arse over head onto the hard marble floor, repaints said floor a nice colour of butcher shop red and gets taken for a ride in a nice ambulance and spends a day out in the hospital.

This was on thursday last week and today he has a face that looks like some kind of very old, frail and wise looking sepia colored panda.