CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Kenny Buxton, surrounded by his staff, sat his short fat balding fifty-eight year old self in his expensive leather padded chair at the head of the boardroom table and felt pleased.
On the second weekend in June he was planning to hold a two-day all singing all dancing, band playing, bunting flying, bubbly flowing, One Day Wonders Ltd debut for his new skydiving franchise at Redhill Aerodrome.
He was really excited about this one. Thousands of leaflets had been printed and distributed including newspaper and local radio advertising. For his promotion he had engaged a professional skydiving team with coloured smoke canisters, a fire-fighting exercise involving helicopters, a jazz band with a food marquee, rides for children, free T-shirts, badges, caps, the whole wor
