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Wednesday, July 09, 2008

Which dungeon?






The upward turn of the lawyer’s eyes when he heard The Owner’s name spoke volumes for her rotten reputation, and his attitude of weary resignation to the catalogue of her machinations did not bode well for my case.

However, it is clear that the contract that I was given was fraudulent and therefore everything connected with it is similarly fraudulent so The Owner’s conceit that I had merely come to the end of my ‘contract’ can be treated with the rich contempt that it deserves.

I shall maintain that I was sacked and ask for the full compensation that the law allows. I have to say that the ‘full compensation’ is a little (well, a lot) less than magnificent, but, as the saying goes, it is better than being splashed in the face with rancid yak piss.

The campaign starts tomorrow with an innocuous telephone call informing The Owner of the amount of money which she owes me and why she owes me it. As telephonic communication has been a little strained between The Owner and my good self, I have also prepared a little letter
which I will personally deliver to the said person or her representative.

The complete lack of response to this letter will galvanize the Union into some sort of action and then I will deem the campaign really to have started!

Other ‘weapons’ are primed and ready to go off so my little printer will be working overtime!

I returned somewhat disconsolately to Castelldefels after the Union meeting because I was hoping that the lawyer would immediately phone the police and have The Owner arrested and carted in chains to some evil smelling and rat infested prison to rue her past life and ponder on the consequences of her evil acts. The rather more sedate way forward seemed wholly out of kilter with the damage that The Owner has done.

It was while I was wearily wending my way along the tedious motorway links home that I caught a glimpse of the distant mountains.

They were strung out in a misty overlapping line of blues looking like the most delicate brushstrokes of a master Chinese watercolorist. The sky behind was a casual smudge of orange with a muted gleam of light radiating from gold to ochre.
It was breathtaking and one of those casual displays of beauty that nature throws at one when one is least expecting it. And the music of Eduard Toldrà was playing on a recently purchased CD and the air conditioning was astringently cool.

Who could ask for more. And how easy it is to forget what had seemed overpoweringly important seconds before.

But then the view changed.

It always does!

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