Diary of a Dyslexic

My manager – Voldemort was rarely addressed by his chosen name – had taken me into a string of ‘confidential’ meetings

I sat directly opposite the person accusing me of what I had hoped to continue concealing, in an open office

The ‘dyslexic’ was silent. God forbid that word is spoken aloud.

It's the social event of the year. The expectation to mingle like you've never mingled before? High. The chances of sticking by the food...