4 days in the life of a workaholic

• Tuesday evening: Train to London. Write three action letters (i.e. with editorial decisions). Eat Sushi. Stay in hotel near Paddington
• Wednesday: Take early train to Heathrow. Fly to Washington DC. Skip the movies and instead write seven action letters (and one blog entry - see below).
• Wednesday evening: write two action letters in hotel. Walk to nearest RadioShack, but they're out of iPods.
• Thursday morning: Wake up at 4am local time. Write two action letters. Walk to another RadioShack (further away). Buy iPod Nano. Cross road to AT&T store. Play with iPhone. Fall in love.
• Thursday afternoon: write two action letters. Read other reviews of the grant applications I shall be speaking about at the grants review panel.
• Thursday evening: meet with panel, then go for very decent meal and even more decent wine.
• Friday morning: Wake up at 5am local time. Check reviews again for the grant applications I'm speaking about. Meeting starts at 8am. Lunch is brought in (we had a 20 minute break!). Meeting finishes at 5pm. Quick beer with a few colleagues. Taxi to airport. Write two action letters. Board flight. Sleep (those US pharmaceuticals work a real treat...)
• Saturday morning: Wake up at 9am local time. Land, take train to London, then to York, on which I simultaneously upload all my decision letters, write this entry, and contemplate the need later this weekend to remind myself of the two lectures I'm giving on Monday. First one starts at 9.30am.

I think I need therapy.....or alcohol.

somewhere over the Atlantic

In my last post I wrote "...I can go back to my usual erratic blogging". I got an email from a friend who worries that it doesn't befit a serious academic to have an erotic blog... What's an 'r' and an 'o' between friends?

So... am cruising at 36,000 feet somewhere over the Atlantic. Have decided that a trip in Business Class (no frequent flier miles left!) is way better than a day at the office. It is actually more comfortable than the office, and there are no interruptions except for when fantastically nice people bring me coffee just as soon as I appear to need it. Not to mention bringing the occasional snack. How good is that? I emailed a couple of colleagues (the two who are least likely to take me seriously) and suggested that they could do worse than to take a leaf out of the United Airlines Cabin Staff Manual, Section D: Keeping Customers Happily Supplied with Coffee, Nibbles, and Smiles.

So between nibbles, lunch, and unlimited supplies of halfway decent coffee (Starbucks, apparently), I'm managing to make editorial decisions on a whole bunch of papers. Self-satisfaction knows no bounds...