It begins

I'm sitting at St Pancras station waiting for a train to Paris. My working year begins in earnest this afternoon with that fiddly, unnecessarily complicated, multiplayer project that drew down so much of my emotional reserves at the end of last year.

There are a myriad of little decisions still to be made, none of which are singularly vital but which nonetheless have the potential to run into one another and thus damage the overall project. The danger is that as there's no clear sense of who makes what decision we end up with yet more turf wars. My kingdom for a strong client, etc.

The time to ask for forgiveness rather than permission is nigh.