I’m very good with words as a rule, but this sort of thing does, I must confess, trip me up sometimes.
“Well, if you’re one hundred percent sure...” he said, not, it must be noted, sounding particularly sure himself.
“Absolutely, Bob.” I nodded. “Everything will be confirmed and arrangements put in place by the end of the week. You can count on it.”
“Ah, well, that’d be brilliant,” he said, scribbling on the form, which he then passed to me.
“I just need you to fill in that section at the bottom, and that’s us done,” he said.
I signed with a flourish. I don’t have much opportunity to use my signature in day-to-day life,
which is rather a pity, as I have a very interesting “John Hancock,” as our cousins across the pond would have it.
I don’t mean to boast. It’s just that almost everyone who’s seen it has remarked on how unusual, how special it is.
Personally, I don’t see what all the fuss is about. Anyone could write an “O” as a snail-shell spiral if they wished to, after all,
and using a mixture of upper- and lowercase letters is simply good sense—it ensures that the signature is difficult to forge.
Personal security, data security: so important. When I finally sat down at my desk, the first thing I noticed was the flowers.
They’d been obscured by the monitor as I’d approached, but now I saw the vase (well, it was actually a pint glass;
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