We all do it, don’t we?

With the July issue of ShD now dispatched to the repro house, I've a couple of minutes in which to pour out my thoughts. Not too ground-breaking, as I've other stuff to be getting on with.

Whilst on my travels last week, I played the game that we all play. Go on, you do it. I know you do. You're out there on the M1 or M6 or wherever, and you're looking at trucks (if you're a trukkie) or rear-mounted forklifts (if you're a forkie) and you're spotting all the brands and types that you can recognise. You don't feel great doing this - it is, let's admit it, a somewhat sad way to pass the time. But you can't help it.

At the garden centre, instead of looking at the fertiliser, you're checking out the pallet truck used to transport it. On a Sunday, with the family in the car, you spot a roadside distribution centre and deliver an unchallenged monologue about the virtues of double-decker trailers. At the supermarket, you're marvelling at the deployment of RFID tags.

My long-suffering wife is starting to become immune to it. Having been dragged out on Valentine's Day to the Fork Lift Truck Association awards, and travelling with me to a romantic Paris hotel to hear about a new hand-held barcode scanner, I sense her shoulders slumping whenever I suggest a trip away.

So when we launch into these speeches, when we drag our loved ones to all corners of the globe for the unveiling of a new warehouse, when our eyes wander away from a loving gaze to spot that tiny speck of a fork lift truck in the distance just over her shoulder, try to fight it. Yes, we love what we do, but we have to draw the line somewhere.

"You ought to get out more," I'm often told. Well, that is exactly the problem. It's precisely when I'm out that the trouble begins. Next time, try, "You ought to stay in more."