Well. Well well. I’ve barely put foot to ground in past week, but I’ll fill you in as best I can. Of course, there was the leaving do in Guildford on Friday night. The working day had finished with the traditional presentation – some bubbly, some cakes and a present – a suitable techy one that I’d hinted at the previous day. It was emotional – for so many times, I’d been the onlooker at leaving parties, laughing and joking, but today I was the centre of attention, and I’d no idea what to say. Really, what do you say? I mumbled on for a couple of minutes about the company being “a troublesome teenager, trying to grow up, dragging its heels but slowly getting up to speed”. It was the best I could do at short notice.
The leaving night was fun – a trip to the pub round the corner, where multiple shots were bought and an old colleague Ed even put in an appearance. And then off to a new Indian restaurant around the corner with Michelle and Zoe (and, MUCH later, Nick) for a hearty meal. It was a good night, and full of stories and images to fill the mental scrapbook – titled “My End of The Pier Story” or something equally witty.
And then, it was a long weekend of preparation for The New Job. I test drove four cars, visited the cricket-playing Nick in Cranleigh (he won, I think) and met up with Shunta and the pregnant Lucy. Sunday was… well, Sunday.
And then Monday. Monday Monday. I’ll save that for another post…