The One When It's All Over
Well, I had my last day, and it dragged like hell but mostly because I'd cleared my desk and my inbox by 3pm, and sent emails to all the promoters I've worked with over the last four years to say goodbye (and tell them who to email from now on), and so there was little else I could do but sit and wait. Marc (line manager) gave me a bottle of pink champagne and said a few lovely things that made me well up, Christian (other boss) gave me a hug and got all choked up which started me blubbing, so by the time I walked out of the door for the last time I was lost.
Paul came to meet me and we had a really lovely meal at Wagamama with Sam and Connor, Ifigeneia, Mandy, Jess and Cressida (I say these names for my own future reference only - I know you don't know who the hell they are :p), and then moved on to the pub where I drank and drank and drank and yet stayed remarkably sober until on the train home where I fell asleep on Paul's shoulder. The highlight of the night was my leaving card full of messages from friends, and my present of a big box of chocolates and £50 of HMV vouchers (which I am now trying to decide how to use). It was a lovely way to say goodbye, lots of people turned up, and I left feeling bittersweet relief and regret.
Paul and I had an excessively lazy weekend, tending my hangover with much tea and hot cross buns, making homemade burgers, watching Sharpe and reading while keeping an eye on the football scores. Yesterday I cooked a roast and it turned out pretty perfectly which made me astonishingly proud, especially as Paul is the one with the cooking skills in our relationship. It was a really chilled, lovely weekend.
This morning, as predicted, is when the reality has started to kick in and I have been wandering around in a bit of a daze with a too-much-sugar headache trying to work out what I'm supposed to be doing. The answer of course is 'nothing' - I desperately need a holiday and I'm still technically getting paid until the end of this week - but I feel like I should be achieving something. Something other than making the perfect cup of tea I mean, although I suppose that's a good enough place to start.
Paul came to meet me and we had a really lovely meal at Wagamama with Sam and Connor, Ifigeneia, Mandy, Jess and Cressida (I say these names for my own future reference only - I know you don't know who the hell they are :p), and then moved on to the pub where I drank and drank and drank and yet stayed remarkably sober until on the train home where I fell asleep on Paul's shoulder. The highlight of the night was my leaving card full of messages from friends, and my present of a big box of chocolates and £50 of HMV vouchers (which I am now trying to decide how to use). It was a lovely way to say goodbye, lots of people turned up, and I left feeling bittersweet relief and regret.
Paul and I had an excessively lazy weekend, tending my hangover with much tea and hot cross buns, making homemade burgers, watching Sharpe and reading while keeping an eye on the football scores. Yesterday I cooked a roast and it turned out pretty perfectly which made me astonishingly proud, especially as Paul is the one with the cooking skills in our relationship. It was a really chilled, lovely weekend.
This morning, as predicted, is when the reality has started to kick in and I have been wandering around in a bit of a daze with a too-much-sugar headache trying to work out what I'm supposed to be doing. The answer of course is 'nothing' - I desperately need a holiday and I'm still technically getting paid until the end of this week - but I feel like I should be achieving something. Something other than making the perfect cup of tea I mean, although I suppose that's a good enough place to start.