Budget… Jesus F* Christ. OBVIOUSLY it was over budget, because she kept changing her sodding mind every five minutes and we had to pay for everything two or three times over! That’s why some of the stuff was still purple, because there was no money left to change it all to white. Most of it had already been delivered and opened.

I know you’ll probably want to pacify her in some way because of the future business stuff, and that’s fine, but I just wanted to convey my thoughts to you, because I sure as hell can’t bring myself to reply to that cow myself.

I’m WFH today, but back in the office on Monday or am on my mobile if you need to get hold of me. Advance warning: keep the volume turned down, because I’ll be LOUD! Grrrr….

G x

P.S…. * The F does not stand for Fred.

As soon as I hit Send I know it probably wasn’t a good idea, but sometimes these things need saying. Anyway, Sue and I get on really well and it wouldn’t be the first time we’d slagged Matilda off behind her back. When you’re dealing with people like that, sometimes you need a virtual punchbag to let out all the rage. It definitely feels much better for getting it all off my chest. At least now Sue will know how I feel and will be able to get that all across to Matilda in a way I know I’d never manage.

Now that’s out of the way, I decide to make myself that cup of tea, take a moment to breathe and then get on with the rest of my work.

12

Saturday 21 December

It’s the day of the annual seaside trip for the beach barbecue, and we’re all heading to Brighton. It wasn’t until we’d all got our hotels and transport arranged that Ben decided to pipe up and mention that Brighton’s got a pebble beach, not a sandy one. Trying to have a barbecue on a British beach in December is usually difficult enough in itself, but trying to lay down picnic blankets on loose pebbles and cobbles is going to add a whole new layer of interest.

That’s not the only thing that seems to have caused some issues, though. Transport has also thrown a spanner in the works. There had been a big debate about which would be the best way to get to Brighton: road or rail. In the end, some people decided to go by train and the others wanted to drive. As it turned out, those of us who went by train somehow forgot to check for engineering works, and we ended up having to change trains twice, as well as lugging our bags through central London between stations. Fortunately for us, we got our schadenfreude when Melissa texted to say they were stuck in traffic because there’d been an accident and the M23 was shut.

At that point, I was just about ready to jump back on the train and go home. I’ve not been looking forward to it anyway, with Nan being so unwell and the argument between me and Cath still simmering away unresolved. It’s not like us to ignore each other, but maybe that’s what we both need right now. It’s going to make today awkward, though.