Nothing Urgent
I was in the shower this morning and missed a call from the Controller of ´óÏó´«Ã½ Scotland, Ken MacQuarrie. When I called him back he told me that it was "nothing urgent" , that he was sorry to have disturbed me at home and that he would call me when I got to the office.
Of course a "nothing urgent" call from the big boss is not something you can shrug off. It's not the same as "nothing important" or "nothing at all". So I was left to imagine all sorts of possibilities. Perhaps he'd finally found out about that incident at last year's Christmas party? Surely not. I'd paid enough people to keep their mouths shut.
As it happens, I wasn't going into the office in Inverness. I was driving down the A9 for an afternoon appointment in Glasgow. I got there just after lunch and who should I see in the corrdior but Ken MacQuarrie. He gave me a puzzled look.
"Weren't you in Inverness when I spoke to you earlier?"
"Yes."
"Did you fly down?"
"No. I have the car today."
Then he finally told me why he'd called this morning and, do you know, he was right.
It was nothing urgent.
