Monday
Bank holiday.
In the afternoon I went to a country fair held in the grounds of a hall.
Parking in a field we walked across a stone bridge and up a slope lined with various stalls (stopping in one of the tents to have a cup of tea). The Hall itself consisted of long low plain grey stone facades, mullioned windows, battlements. Magnificent magnolia grandiflora (not in flower). Display of classic cars. Children on the main lawn performing folk dances. The local Hunt appeared, astonishingly smart, the hounds eager and friendly.
All the afternoon the rain held off.
Tuesday
Final proofs of the publication were on my desk when I arrived in the office this morning. All I had to do was check that the amendments had been made correctly. The 12 noon final deadline had to be extended to 2pm because of delays caused by Development Manager Tim Watts.
News that Deputy Director Lois Cooper has cancer and is now on sick leave.
Then when the publication had finally been finished, it seemed slightly bewildering how relaxed the day had become.
There was a general sense of congratulation throughout the building that the publication had been finished.
Graphic designer Joey R rang up, and talked about the publication - "It's such a great weight lifted, feels like I'm now on holiday, all I have to do now is repair my marriage..."
Wednesday
Why do I feel so tired? I think it is because of the stress of producing the publication over the past few weeks. A lot of my credibility at work is invested in the publication and I am glad it has been produced to a high standard in such a short space of time.
A meeting with Director Vijay Singh over the marketing budget for the rest of the financial year.
Thursday
The publication having been finished I felt that I could get on with the rest of my life.
Alec Nussbaum (from our sister organisation) rang to talk about two joint leaflets he wants to produce. After the publication these should have been simple and straightforward, but actually they proved to be quite intractable (given the hostility between Vijay Singh and Alec Nussbaum). Also the deadlines are impossible.
Most of the upstairs staff gathered to talk about Lois Cooper who is very seriously ill - praise for her positive outlook, her interests, her helpfulness, her humanity, her sense of the absurd, her awareness of mortality.
Friday
For some reason I found it difficult to sleep which meant that I started the day feeling extremely tired. I had reserved the morning for copywriting the Alec Nussbaum leaflets but there were so many interruptions I made little progress. I became resigned to taking the work home to finish over the weekend, a practice I usually avoid.
In the absence of Lois Cooper her work is being done by Accounts Superviser Marcia Walsh (aged 45, short, grossly overweight, sharp voice that at times almost shrieks, false teeth that slip when she is talking, frequent references to her disabled husband who is a wheelchair-user). Marcia Walsh is very ambitious, and it is difficult to avoid the suspicion that she is using this opportunity to bolster her own position and extend her control over other departments. Unfortunately she is the kind of person who advances herself by denigrating everyone around her, so we may be about to enter a period of aggressive office politics.
I had the afternoon off and drove about twenty miles to a commuter village just north of the M25. Rambling 17th century yeoman farmhouse painted bright pink and turned into a frou frou restaurant (pink satin curtains, pink Louis VI sofas, pink menus etc). In the bar I met my financial services client and we had lunch.
This freelance work is very useful - I am paid more for about ten hours a month than I am paid for my regular job.
Vicheyssoise followed by poached salmon followed by lemon brulee; wine by the glass (we were both driving).
Our conversation was somewhat one-sided. After the usual preliminaries my client (who has also become a sort of friend over the years) launched into an monologue that became an impassioned
confessional of his recent business dealings. He admitted he was
bursting to tell someone of his coup - how by astute dealings he had outwitted a major chain of estate agents and had bought for a knock-down price assets that would deliver a massive increase in his income.
His mood veered during this conversation from bellicose pride in his negotiating power to an almost superstitious fear that he may have over-reached himself. He was wearing a grey-checked shirt (Gucci label on the pocket) that was tight over his belly so that the buttons were straining and I visualised him physically as well as verbally bursting with the effect of his business triumph. At the end of the meal he lowered his voice and said "Under no circumstances must you reveal this to anyone, but..."
He was so proud of his new acquisitions that he insisted on taking me on a tour, and we drove to a nearby town in his new blue Mercedes convertible (he owns three Mercedes). A great show was made of taking the car roof down and despite my protests we charged along the duel carriageways at 105mph, the force of the wind almost unbearable. Only when I threatened to throw his papers out of the car did he begin to slow down.
We arrived in the town and went to the newly acquired estate agents which was in an impressive red-brick Victorian building (I will have to see if it is mentioned in Pevsner). Inside were a variety of staff who all seemed wary of their new boss (he was darting about asking questions). At the back, lounging in an expensive-looking leather office chair, was his business partner Raymond M - smug, oily and odious, the sort of person I most dislike.
Ignoring my presence Raymond M took my client on one side and began making complaints about the branch manager Robert T, who he referred to as Rob. I jokingly said that "Rob" was an appropriate name for an estate agent. They both looked at me with blank, poker-faced stares that made me feel momentarily uncomfortable.