The Under Offer board that's stuck outside the block of flats next to mine has been there for so long, it's fused into the surroundings so completely that unless I decide I want to see it, I do n't. It's the visual equivalent of background noise.

But I did just a few minutes ago, and it's fortitude - look it's out there in all weathers, sun-bleached and wind battered like an old Pub sign - struck me hard.

I need, I really, really do, a strong dose of the same patience and simple sang-froid that board's displaying when I pull the covers back on what passes as my pay rise. Small enough that it's questionable if it's visible to the naked eye. And I don't feel happy, no not one jot.