Collection of the ashes

A day in our Warwick office today. I had an email requesting my technical input and experience of a customer who is a building society that has branches wide across the nation (cough). Normally a fairly run-of-the-mill request, but I’m so glad to get back into work, it was like a dog attacking a juicy bone.

I approached my ex-boss-but now pal, Haf, about my 25-year certificate and pen. I’ll let the managers present me with those sometime, but for now I nabbed the £300’s  worth of store vouchers from the package. My 25 years with IBM was on 1st July this year, there was also a company paid-for lunch planned but we didn’t quite make it; J was too ill, so I cancelled it, as I wasn’t in the mood. Maybe later this year or early next year.

Mid-morning, I went out to the car park with Haf, to see some Audi cars that the leasing companies were showing off. I have a renewal package come through (translation from corporate speak: that means I can now order a new replacement company car) and Haf has one approaching, so we were the nearest equivalent to cheque-book-waving customers. I drove an Audi A6 around the countryside with Haf; I’ve driven several of the new models before but it just confirmed that these are very nice cars indeed. Maybe get an estate though?

Much of the afternoon was spent listening to a necessary and mandatory, but rather dull education course. Then I left for Banbury. There was some sort of accident off the motorway and it took me a ridiculous length of time to get to the funeral directors’ premises (first time I’ve been there). I had to drop off a conference call to the US about the customer bid while I went inside. I duly collected a large, heavy plastic urn containing J’s ashes, wrapped in a soft green cloth and with a matter-of-fact label attached. I listened in to the rest of the call, all the way home and for some minutes on my driveway. J would have appreciated the irony: “typical!” she would have said.

Eventually got in and had a pleasant “how was your day?” chat with my girls. Stared hard at the urn for a few minutes but it’s not Juliet: the photo on the mantelpiece is her, the dressing-gown on the back of our bedroom door is her, the memories are her, but this jar is not her, even though it supposedly contains her physical remains.

Took Lucy to yet another sleepover in Bloxham later. Watched a TV comedy quiz show with Alice later but also emailed a lot of recent new friends. Life is getting a bit more interesting.

About hodders

Husband and proud father of two daughters. Now a widower. Trying to balance between not dwelling on Juliet's death, but telling the world how much I loved her. Tricky.
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