Tears, but the good kind

I woke this morning to the birds calling and whistling in the high trees outside and in the garden, the light streaming through the window, the air cool and damp after last night’s thunderstorm. You don’t hear birds much, in Toronto, certainly not at this time of year, not even in summer. I am here, I think, lying in bed, listening, and somehow I feel lighter, and looser, calmer, at one with myself and with my surroundings. It is good to be home. I was met last night at the airport by Eve and Shaun, and my grandson Joshua: I bent over to greet him, and took his tiny hand, and kissed him, and the tears welled up, not only in my eyes but in Eve’s eyes too, as little Josh smiled up at us and gurgled happily.  ‘You’ve made my glasses steam up,’ I complained to Eve. ‘You’ve made my makeup run,’ she responded. We hugged and laughed. More

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Connecting to outreach and mutually update

Once a year, dear Lucy Kellaway of the FT, bless her heart, offers scalding remedies for obfuscation and verbiage, the debasement of the language. The fauna of her verbal forest live, unfortunately, in the uplands of business, or else a thin-skinned, orange-haired ‘nasty man’ would surely – surely? – have taken the biscuit – and thrown it, like everything else he touches, into the garbage. Clipped from: https://www.ft.com/content/d118ce7a-d325-11e6-9341-7393bb2e1b51 Contenders for 2016’s gong ranged from euphemistic to ‘plain moronic’ Every January for the past decade I have handed out awards for horrible use of language in business. Usually the task amuses me. This year I have found the sheer weight of euphemism, grammatical infelicity, disingenuity and downright ugliness so lowering I have decided to start the 2016 Golden Flannel Awards with something more uplifting: a prize for clarity. I am calling this the Wan Long prize, after the Chinese meat magnate who once uttered the clearest sentence ever spoken by a

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