One of my friends is adamant that education i.e school got between him and work. Wild horses, in the shape of his parents, did drag him up to the school door, over the threshold and then straight to the classroom. But if it had n't been for them, he would have downed his pen, slung the exercise book over his shoulder, thrown on the overalls and beelined it for the workshop.

Press him and he will admit that some education is useful; practical, utilitarian things, like reading, a little elementary science, a nugget or two of basic engineering know-how. That far and no more, though, that's all he's prepared to 'fess up to.

I hold a dissenting opinion, the reverse of his, light to his dark, chalk to his cheese as it were. For me, you see, work gets between me and education.

If I could spend more time in the coffee shop each morning and not have to keep glancing at the wall clock above the Barrista's head, fretting have I got enough time to finish the piece I'm reading, digest it, understand it and perhaps jot a few notes down in my notebook to mull over later, and can I do all of this before having to creep like the snail to the office for that first conference call...

No, I have to collapse all of this, the way you might do if you were running for the bus and trying to pack a suitcase at the same time. That great article in the paper, that salient thought, enlightening commentary....all of them, part digested, jumbled up and never, ever properly understood. Yet, there's a chink of hope called Blackberry. With that credit card sized techno chip burping emails, I can work anywhere....and is n't the coffee shop somewhere...and is n't that where I'm self-educating...