Right, settle in. We’ve all been there, haven’t we? That moment you try to be incredibly helpful and, instead, you look like a prize pilchard. I’m talking about my latest spectacular self-sabotage, an act of sheer, well-meaning idiocy involving one of my brilliant clients.

My Helpful Default Mode

For those who don’t know, my two birth-children are technically adults now. They are both brilliantly capable, but they still manage to drive me insane and do spectacularly stupid things. They are also severely dyslexic. I’ve lived the struggle, and I know that sometimes, a great, big wall of text is the absolute worst. A quick voice note? Brilliant. A chat? Even better. It’s my default setting for communicating anything important to them.