It has been cold these past few days, cold but bright: such beauty in glittering tones and shades. The wonder of winter has accompanied me as I have listened to Kate Bush’s most recent album “50 Words for Snow.” The music is, as one would expect, invigorating, challenging, dark and wonderful much like the season it was written for.


Mum came home last night arriving to be greeted by Jimbob at a little after eight. I followed shortly after. We sat with her as she shivered in her armchair waiting for the arrival of the two careers who have been appointed to look after her. She is nervous about the prospect but mostly concerned as her legs still don’t seem to be working. I hope this move is the right one for her.

Modern times has led us to embrace an ethic that Muslims and Hindu’s have long carried out – family taking care of family. I think this is right. Too often we flee when faced with the onset of a loved one’s age as it means taking responsibility for those who supported us when we were young. We looked after my Aunt as she slipped into senility and also my Mother-in-law as cancer took her life. Fortunately, I have children, not lone wolves like their father, who take that responsibility seriously. Jimbob has been incredible as has Tweezil and Jasmine too, with the mutual dislike shared between daughter and mother-in-law. Of course this new way of encouraging to act morally and responsibly has a deeper raison d'être. It lessens the financial burden to the NHS. Nothing is altruistic in this world.

Thumbscrew has earned more money than I ever have - £80,000 in a year. The fact she has fills me with pride but I still question how the NHS can train people only for them to leave before returning as Locums. What on earth is that all about?

Recently, artist David Hockney turned his ingenious hand to painting landscapes. This may not seem a particularly innovative move but I find it rather exciting. Leaving aside all the wonderful art we have seen in recent decades the art world seems to remain faithful to producing modern art with a capital M. Not that I mind but landscape, with its reflective presentation of nature’s wonder has been largely overlooked. I was trying some while back to persuade a friend he should extend his business core from being a creative design agency to include his wonderful portrait paintings. It struck me that people pay, often for vanity purposes, a good deal of money to have their family captured on canvas. More recently still, whilst looking at John Keane’s work and mulling over Hockney’s dazzling move, I took a look at said friends flickr site and was struck by how imaginative his eye is but also how he should focus on producing (painting) more landscapes. Landscape painting has been much maligned. It needs to make a comeback; a return to favour and I think it will.

The Fekenham novels are delayed and people I had contacted are asking me why. I tell them the truth. Not my take on what I think the truth to be but the reality. It is a bloody inconvenience but nothing more than that. With luck, and by years end, I should have not only the first four published but a further two. It would be nice if I could complete the first series by Yuletide 2012 but I am not sure I am capable.

Michael sent me the first two drafts of the EB cover. Both were fantastic but this I like a lot...

Pauline's funeral is on the 17.02.12. She wants no flowers but instead a contribution to the charity of her choice. I will be going both as a friend as a representative of  Admin Deviant Anal Retentive Executives.

Todays album of choice is: "50 Words For Snow" by Kate Bush

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

Mum came home today following a pantomime of NHS buffoonery. I love the NHS, I owe it my life and on more than one occasion too but their admin side couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery. No clothes for her to go home in so I had to take them in first thing this morning. The medical equipment meant to assist her (commode, walking frame, special shower seat) were delivered to her bungalow without notification and without anyone being there only for the whole shebang to be taken back again. A note was left stating no one was there when the delivery attempt was made. Of course no one was there…Mum lives alone and she was in hospital at the time. Jamie has fitted the secure key box outside Mum’s front door. Jasmine has bought enough food stuff to last Mum a week or more. Grace can’t get there at the moment as she still has a cold. Personally, as much as I hate sitting with other sick people in a ward full of moaning Monty’s, I think the boredom and loneliness will get to Mum. Last time I was in hospital I used to sneak out either to the restaurant or to the local Tesco which was about a mile from the hospital ground. Mum won’t be able to BUT it may just give her enough of an impetus to get out of her bedroom and walk to the kitchen or the living room.




I dropped the clothes off to the ward front desk this morning leaving them with a nurse. I then shot off down the A13 but at the arse end near Benfleet only to sit in traffic for one hour and ten minutes. To sit for that length of time over a distance of four miles is unbelievably frustrating. At one time an ambulance, lights flashing and siren screaming, came from behind me. I moved to one side. Cars in front didn’t. I really don’t have panic attacks as I used to anymore. No more stupid concerns over drinking a glass of water but today, as the dull witted imbeciles sat stony still in their cars I felt the same incredible sweats break out as if a furnace had been lit within me. I shouted out all manner of profanities and opened the car door to have a go at the lot of them but seeing the look on the driver to one side of me returned to my car weeping like a fool. I composed myself and then had the embarrassment of having to poodle along beside the same driver for miles. It has got better but moments like that, or even the death of someone of my parents’ generation makes me cry. Weird and scary how fragile the human mind is.

No longer part of my daily routine as it once was but today I was taken out to lunch by a supplier. When I say the ‘Royal I’ what I mean is Chris, Brian and me the peasant from Essex. We went to a local Surrey pub. I have eaten there before and have to say the cuisine is fantastic. We all had a laugh which makes such a pleasant change after all the crap we normally get.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

I am sick and tired of having a staple diet of biscuits, digestives to be precise. Unable to buy or afford anything else and having to maintain a steady carbohydrate level the only form of food I eat throughout the day are digestives, two at ten, two at lunch two again at four. When Mum was better she would buy me pears that supplemented my diet. I now have to ensure I drink lots otherwise the old bowels cease to function and brick production from my rear is not a viable money spinning option.


Being broke is no joke.

Some weeks we only eat vegetables on a Sunday. The need to make extra money grows all the time. Jasmine being out of work for three months didn’t help. Thank goodness she is working again now.

My shoulders still ache but I still did my routine press-ups this morning. Not the usual 100 but a conservative 60. Also some curls. Chest looking better than it did three months ago when I started as are my arms. I will never be, nor do I want to be, a Charles Atlas type but at least I no longer have bat wings!

Jase and Michael are beavering away. Jase will get back to me by Thursday with some visuals and Michael too although probably not the same day. After this comes the horror of uploading to Kindle. I only hope I am able to understand all that needs doing.

With all this activity I need to concentrate, to focus on one thing at a time. Of the remaining Fekenham novels in series one there are three to go. Two of them have been started as have two ‘spin offs.’

The London Chronicles which Dave and I have been working on has ground to a halt, hopefully not a permanent state of affairs. We started them in 2010 and have only four complete. I have written nearly all the remaining chapters but with the lengthy pause they all need revising and amending. Irritating as Paul has edited just under half of them and will have to go through the same process again. In all honour I should pay him for every minute he spends editing even if the delay is not my fault. This is something to note for when Utility Fish Shed Limited is incorporated as then all transactions will have to be paid for and all my financial accounts will need to balance. Time is money.

Much of ‘The Wilful walks of Russell Duffy – London’ will need rewriting to incorporate the more spiritual aspects that were originally missed first time around. I feel I should make mention in the first chapter of why I start at Wapping; that the London walks are, in part, a pilgrimage and homage to my roots. I had thought to continue with Mark Scammell once Dave had concluded his Eastend chapters but in truth would rather have had Dave do the lot, the whole book. This may not now be possible. Mark was meant to have contacted me during the Christmas break. He didn’t. Dave is in a sulk and has probably fed the whole shebang to Milo his cat. Hopefully not but if he has then I will have to dig deep and find someone else, much as I loathe the thought, who can, if not match his unique style, create something that carries my words with their images.

Today Jimbob Badfinger has been working at my Mum’s, preparing for her home coming by fixing a key box with security code to outside her front door. This will enable the nurses and welfare people gain access without having to get Mum make the painful walk from her bed to the front door. Grace was meant to be going in as well but cancelled as she has a cold. Fortunately, Mum’s coming home tomorrow means that hospital visits will stop. This will cut out the small fortune we have been spending on car parking fees. At £2.50 an hour, especially at weekends, we have been spending up to £10 a day.

My reading has pretty much ground to a halt. Dickens’ book is still unfinished and I have all those other books given as gifts at Christmas to me. I still have only heard a small part of the ‘music man’ Paul sent me. Some good stuff on there too.

PS. I now realise why he is so angry. He sees the expression “dragging his feet” as a pejorative. He thinks I was pointing the finger of blame at him rather than me just stating the simple fact he was unable to do any work on the project. My loose expression has thrown him of balance thinking I am slagging him off. It's okay for men to call each other 'See you next Tuesday's' but not use the term 'dragging feet.'

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. all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

Mum continues to improve. She is now able to get out of the hospital bed and with the use of a Zimmer frame walk to the ward toilet. It is an effort but her determination to get better motivates her. The latest update is that she will be able to go home Wednesday. She will need help and fortunately Jamie will be there. Failing that Grace will be there. When the shit hits the fan my beautiful family, with all the crap they have had to face in recent years, are as tight and united as the best families are.




I will be so glad when Mum goes home. The trouble with being in hospital is that you exist whilst there in a sort of vacuum. Conversations are hard as she hasn’t been able to gather any news apart from what’s going on in her immediate vicinity.


Since the unfortunate business with Dave and the anon 1 and anon 2 comments, I have changed this ‘journal’ into the ‘blog’ it really is. I had been writing it as a daily diary and dairies are by their nature revealing. Honesty is fine but not if it gives the wrong impression to those who mean nothing to me. My family mean everything. They are what keep me going as other relationships fail. My reason for being so forthright here about my marriage when I am anything but when met in the flesh, is because I hoped, prayed, in some reverse wishful thinking way, that by being so candid should things improve then I could say, with pride and pleasure “see, forty years on and WE are back.” Sadly, it’s not going to happen.


Michael misunderstood my request for him to produce the EB cover. He said he is able to hit the (now) March schedule but with all four books! LOL. I don’t want all four from him just the one. He is happy with that. I had forgotten he does this sort of thing for a living and although no more gifted than Dave is probably more used to working this way.


I now need to get back to Jase and give him a proper brief. He seems very ‘up’ for it. I still need to see if he is able to produce the inner illustrations. That is very much a ‘Mac Monkey’s’ role. Trouble is Dave had done such a splendid job with those that it will be hard to follow. Still, Jase, like Michael, produces book covers for a living so again is used to working with prickly old sods like me! Obviously, the deadline for publishing to Kindle has moved but then again I had already said it might to Dave. This sounds odd as I had started to (foolishly) panic about the looming Feb deadline but it was always on the cards this might happen, that is might have to be pushed back to March. Ironic that Dave and I should fall out over something we had agreed to in the first place. Que sera.

I spent yesterday morning cutting up tree limbs into logs. This from the time when Jimbob and I dropped the bloody branch through next doors fence panel! I enjoyed the exercise even though it was hard work. I think I may have the beginnings of Arthritis as my shoulders really hurt when I had finished. This is not the first time this has happened. Still, there are far worse things to worry about. My right foot always hurts whenever I go for long walks. I just pop some pain killers and hey presto! I will have to do some more next week as there is still one unholy mess in the garden.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

This is it. Day one. The first day of many. The farewell to the past. The grand hello to the now. This blog is seven years old. This blog is one day new. History fades with memory. Today cleanses all. Words fall like leaves. Once they left bruises now they turn to ruin. My life is now, today. One day at a time.

I recall my heart attack in 2004. It was my fiftieth birthday. Love had turned to rust. Expressions of affection rang false. Words of apology turned to ash in my mouth. Recrimination is pointless, draining. Where once there was hurt there now  is a lesson learnt. I am still learning and still making mistakes. Emily, her face tear stained, imploring me to fight it. Nurses and Doctors floating like mist behind a glass wall. Morphine bleached the pain and persuaded Morpheus to release sleep.

I remember the following year, 2005. It was close to Christmas. Jamie and I in a car, me crying. Desperately trying to hold it together in front of my son. Failing miserably. My world had collapsed into panic and all I was capable of was pacing the floor wrapped in a duvet. Depression was a gift for the weak or so I thought. The panic attacks were depressions foot soldiers. My confidence had evaporated. I couldn’t function. I still don’t, not fully. It lasted for eight long years and probably began a lot earlier than I care to admit. My confidence is still an issue. Much easier to blame others than accept responsibility.

I am the stereotypical lone wolf. In my case this is not a cliché. I dislike crowds and always have. I don’t do arenas. I do not understand football fans. The instinct of the pack animal is lost on me even if I do like other peoples company. I love with a passion but not without reserve. I have never hated anyone unless it is my self.

Self pitying? I am too angry for that even though my anger is with me. I seek for solace, for peace, for love and for an end to this vile war with myself that hurts those around me.

In love I  have only ever loved once. ‘Arjay are one as one within me, like sun to sky, like leaf to tree.’ Love is fickle like friendship. It waxes and wanes. It has a fragile ego. I have witnessed three suicide attempts and each time my heart has hurt. I stood at the foor of a hospital bed like a stranger in a dream. Watched reluctantly as my pathetic nature with its remorseless fear and self loathing ran riot and roughshod over those near to me.

Diazepam curls you into a small ball that settles snuggly into the palm of Dream It is a sneak thief who robs you of any true ability to deal with the real issues. I threw the contents of the bottle down the toilet then pulled the chain. The savage mood swings continue. Sudden panic still erupts.

This is it. Day one. Onwards, forever onwards.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

After so many upsets, delays and obstacles thrown in the way of my getting published here is yet another. Without clarification or opportunity to apologise Dave has elected not to illustrate my books. From a diary entry I made of which he took exception and without speaking to me first or allowing me to explain, he, acting as both judge and jury has found me guilty and passed sentence. In fairness he had a point the entry could easily be misconstrued but nonetheless it was never intended to cause hurt or offence but was my fears given to black and white.  All artwork has been thrown away. He now will not be working on the Fekenham books. Not my choice though.

I have done a great many foolish things in my time and perhaps this in another but to throw away the artwork like some petulant child without knowing the full truth or having the courtesy to confront me is, in light of my situation, unforgivable.

Imagine a lover finding a note that says “Saw Fred last night. Had a great time with him. He is such a smoothie. He kissed me goodnight under the street light then told me he loved me.” The partner reads this and thinks the worse then files for divorce. It later transpires that she doesn’t love Fred and the kiss was a peck on the cheek.

I feel angry because A, I have screwed up but B because I know I would have communicated my hurt had the situation been reversed. I wouldn’t have simply thought the worse without finding out first. What really annoys me is the self-indulgent blind leap to the wrong conclusion. The negligent lack of balance in judging me without establishing why I had done it or allowing me to put it right. Christ even national newspapers make formal apologies.. The wilful forgetting of how I have tried to help when he has faced hardship.

Yes, with hindsight I was wrong but if the situation were reversed I would have talked things over first.

I don’t make friends easily but when I do it is for life, through thick and thin. The one lesson learnt here is that this is not a diary, it is a blog and anyone can and patently does read it. That will change.

Losing someone through death is bad enough but losing a friend over something like this is beyond sad.

I will recover. I always do and as an only child perhaps too selfish and too focused for my own good.

Michael has offered to do the covers but as a collage. Cheryl too has put my name forward to a group of artists. Onwards, ever onwards.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

Death and its proximity encourage you to review your life with a close scrutiny. My life has been at times filled with all the wrong things, bad emotions and negative karma. Since 2009 I have been analysing my place here; the reason for my existence. Of course the answer is simple – pure random luck, a coupling of two people who exchanged bodily fluids that fertilised and finally produced me. You are born, you live, you pay your taxes then you die. I have no worries on that score whatsoever. Nature sets the rules and I follow its lead as best I can tempering those rules with a human morality that includes love, peace and tolerance. Being human and frail I sometimes struggle but that is also Tao, that is fine and I do my best. My mother’s need for a god is easy to disparage but that misses the point entirely. It really doesn’t matter what focuses you in the search for goodness. Tao is God and God is nature. They are one and the same thing even if the idea of having a deity is just a little too much like superstition for my liking. I still want to incorporate my search for spirituality into my writing. Taking the lead from the Essex Wilful Walks and expanding on those precepts. I recently E-mailed Susan, an American blog friend in the hope of starting an online magazine. Sadly I have heard nothing.




Hi Susan,


I hope you are well and life is being good to you. I still miss those ‘Spilled to Bloodlessness’ days.


I should, at this point, apologise for the delay in responding to the message you put on your blog. So without going to the bother of writing about recent events, and like any normal bone idle man, I have cut and pasted an E-mail I sent to the illustrator working on my books. Hopefully, it goes some way to explain the delay.


Work still crazy but that is the norm. Working stupidly long hours. Book five underway. Car on its last legs with no means of having it serviced. Jasmine been out of work now for near on three months. She fortunately found and started new job on 16.01.12. No money at all and life is suddenly very hard. All of which is the least of my concerns. Just under a fortnight ago Mum became unwell complaining of an upset stomach. Doctor arrived Friday 06.01.12 and diagnosed gastroenteritis. I stayed with her Friday and Saturday watching as she grew worse, emptying buckets of vomit. Her nausea grew worse and she started throwing up a brown smelly liquid. It turned out to be faecal vomiting. On Sunday 08.01.12 I dialled 999. A paramedic arrived, took Mum’s stats and reaffirmed doctors’ diagnosis. By Monday 07.01.12 Mum’s condition had grown really bad. Her regular nurse who cares for her COPD arrived and called an ambulance and she was rushed into hospital.


When arrived doctors again reaffirmed it was gastroenteritis but had her X-Rayed. She was badly constipated so they gave her an enema. It didn’t work. Further tests revealed that scar tissue from her bowel cancer operation had created a blockage. Effectively her own shit was poisoning her. Emergency, lifesaving surgery was performed and Mum was then put into Critical care. On Friday last, 13.01.12 Jasmine and Jaime visited and were told by doctor that Mum had a fifty fifty chance of making it. The weekend was hell but she seems to have turned the corner. She joined your Uncle briefly in the barmy barracks as she spoke a lot of nonsense but this was due to the morphine and the toxins flowing through her system.


Still not good but hopefully recovering in High Dependency Unit.


So then, following Christmas, trying to get my books published on Kindle, working like the proverbial beaver for Pfizer and then my Mum goes and gets sick! She is far better now but I am still visiting her every night.


Now then, what was this idea I had for us to collaborate on? I guess it comes from my personal search for growth and spiritually. Like you I am a big fan of George Harrison. I loved the way he was always searching to be better yet fully aware of his own failings.


Sometime ago I started a blog called “Whispering Grass.” It was meant to be, and I think succeeded as, an all-embracing voice of spirituality combining as it did a multitude of quotes from equally as many faiths and belief systems. I then wrote a series of chapbooks that finally were put up onto ISSUU. They were titled “The Wilful Walks of Russell Duffy” and were a journal come essay on my walks around the county of my birth – Essex. They also gave forth on my own failings, my marriage break-up and my desire to be a better, fuller human being.


This led me to think of producing perhaps a magazine or even a book that, like the blog, presents all faiths as being positive forces of good. I think this old Hindu saying sums it up best:


"There are hundreds of paths up the mountain, all leading in the same direction, so it doesn't matter which path you take. The only one wasting time is the one who runs around and around the mountain, telling everyone else that their path is wrong."






In a world filled with pain, ignorance, famine and foolhardy egos I simply wanted to create a broad church that forged some kind of common link between faiths. Nothing new in this I guess but that was and still is my desire. Not sure how to go about it or even if an online magazine would be better than a Kindle book. I also thought instantly of you as you always seemed to be a kindred spirit in your beliefs. I am not Christian nor am I Hindu. I can’t remember which famous author said it but this is my paraphrased version – “I am a Pagan, Buddhist, Taoist Confucian.” At the end of the day we are all one no matter how we perceive God and I want to somehow capture that essence and put it into words.


Initially I conceptualised the project as a 24 to 28pp magazine with essays written by various individuals from different faith groups. I thought this mag could have features on important historical people such as Jesus, Confucius, Alan Watts and a number of other note worthies. We could also go into detail on the faith itself, blowing away any misconceived ideas that some people harbour over certain religions – Islam being a perfect contemporary example. I guess I feel a bit like John Lennon here knowing I have a good idea but in my heart knowing I cannot achieve it on my own as I really don’t know where to start.


The other option is to work in close collaboration with you on a book, a book that would be the modern equivalent of Tao Te Ching, a book filled with our thoughts, our essays cobbled together with various quotes from the wise and wonderful men that have enriched our lives: Morihei Ueshiba, Laozi, Mohammed, Acharya Swami Pranabananda etc.


I am up for any thoughts you have so let me know when you can. If I don’t respond straight away it is because I am sitting with my Mum. I will get back to you as soon as I can.


Fingers crossed that we can do something together.


All the best,


Russell (aka cocaine jesus)



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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

Death is as natural as breathing. I have no fears of dying whatsoever. It isn’t death that scares most of us but the thought of never seeing loved ones again. That sense of loss is dreadful. I perfectly understand why monotheists and other faith followers desire to believe in an afterlife. At least then you get to meet up with loved ones again or at least you would if you believed in such things. I am happy to know that all that lives was born to die and that I will die and life will go on.


Pauline’s death was a shock at first but the more I think of how she looked during her final days then I think it for the best. Kenneth Williams once famously said that no one should live beyond 65 and watch themselves deteriorate. I know what he meant. Pauline was a generous soul, kind and friendly. She also had a wonderful sense of humour. I remember on one occasion when she, suffering from the heat, made a blowing noise as she flapped her blouse. “Hot?” I enquired. “It has been said.” She quipped.

Alan sounded matter of fact when we spoke. I guess it is easier to treat Pauline’s passing in a business-like manner. Not so much her death but the very detail of what needs doing after the event.

I have gathered together the bits and pieces Pauline left at work. She told me to get rid of them if she died and I told her not to be daft as she would be coming back to pick them up her self. If only my confident bravado had been right.

“There'll come a time when all of us must leave here


Then nothing Sister Mary can do


Will keep me here with you


As nothing in this life that I've been trying


Could equal or surpass the art of dying


Do you believe me?


: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/g/george+harrison/art+of+dying_20059012.html ]


There'll come a time when all your hopes are fading


When things that seemed so very plain


Become an awful pain


Searching for the truth among the lying


And answered when you've learned the art of dying






But you're still with me


But if you want it


Then you must find it


But when you have it


There'll be no need for it






There'll come a time when most of us return here


Brought back by our desire to be


A perfect entity


Living through a million years of crying


Until you've realized the art of dying


Do you believe me”

Lyrics

George Harrison lyrics - Art Of Dying lyrics
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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

My friend and colleague Pauline died a few days ago. I found this out when I phoned her husband to ask after her. She was 60. I will never forget the lovely lady who had to put up with me and my fractious ways. She slipped away without pain or discomfort. Here are the first and last E-mails I received from her. I will miss her.

Tue 12/04/2011 16:55


Hi Russell


Hope you’ve been making the most of the glorious weather we’ve had.


We had an excellent time in Eastbourne as the weather was so good. Not a great deal to do there in early April but plenty of places to walk so did a lot of walking!


Alan planned to jet wash the garden furniture yesterday but a loud bang from the jet washer, which sent Alan jumping 6 feet in the air, means that we now have a garden filled with part washed tables and chairs.


(Could have been dangerous but it made me laugh).

I spoke to Derek yesterday, it was good to catch up with him. He told me that he is still trying to get on the Adare suppliers list.

Had my second appointment at Guys yesterday and the forms have now been completed for the chemotherapy which should start next week. We are expecting to get a call from them tomorrow to confirm the start date.


I’m a bit nervous about it but that is only to be expected.


Had a busy day yesterday (didn’t get back from the hospital until 7:40pm) so not doing too much today.

Alan has gone to give blood so I’m going to make a some tea and put my feet up for a while.


Let me know how things are.


Say “hello” to Lee for me.

Take care.


Love from


Pauline x










Thu 17/11/2011 12:4

Hi Russell

Feeling better today and getting pain under control which is good.

I do remember a mailing for SMA that was done for Matt .


It was the first mailing job for SMA so we used the previous supplier (recommended by Matt) but I can’t remember their name.


The job was made up of several components to be printed (folder, inserts etc) plus the insertion of a wiro-bound book, supplied by Matt.


As you know, it’s not always possible to give accurate postage costs until the mailing has been completed but I’m sure that the O** supplier did include the cost in their estimate as they needed one of the wiro-bound books for weight.

Can O** check the estimate sent to the client to see if postage costs were included? If they can let me have a copy it should jog my memory a bit more!


Regards


Pauline



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 all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

Looking a bit like a large nosed Peter Gabriel in this photo that Thumbscrew took.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?