Proper work in that I put a suit on, travelled to London and met a customer today. Before that I did the two-hour commute into our office on the South Bank. Met several colleagues; no-one mentioned my bereavement and I realised that not everone knows.
Cab into the City with a couple of colleagues to meet a financial customer. Typical confrontational style from an individual with a point to prove. This was actually a perfect meeting for me as I’ve seen it dozens of times before, but you have to raise your game a little to stay professional, fly the corporate flag and get one’s point across. We all parted on good terms.
Back home the girls had done chores, and cooked a tea of fish pie. Read a handwritten letter from my Mum. Got the final bill for the funeral – how much? I mean, I don’t begrudge it, but show me the value?? Inspected the GPs – they’re getting on badly. For goodness sake, try & live together, stop trying to be Top Pig.
Went to the pub, rather apprehensively. Slightly formal handshakes from the chaps but a hug from the landlady Sarah. Soon degenerated into a normal, raucous, fun and late evening with 5 out of the 6 of us there. I felt guilty for enjoying myself. I know it’s stupid, I know.
Here’s a photo of us looking young and happy, because we were.