Help! I’ve lost my drone
The last time I saw my drone, it had disappeared out of sight over my house. Towards the North Sea. The whirr of its rotor blades drowned out by squawking birds. It was out of my control, ignoring my commands — not to mention quite a few F-bombs. I retreated indoors clutching the (now useless) remote control. How do you explain to the other half (or the other third, as I’m told to say) that you have just lost the birthday present they bought you for £600? Awkward. How I loved that drone! Desire for a totally unnecessary gizmo is usually inspired by something unconnected. Until recently, I was on the UK board of a European real estate advisory company . We were huddled around a conference phone that makes everyone sound as if they’re in the bog, in a meeting room that can at best be described as drab. White melamine table , slightly uncomfortable stacking chairs that were fashionable in the ’90s and glass partitions inscribed with the word “inspirational” (only a property advisory ...