It felt like a University of Birmingham reunion. In reality we were gathered together to celebrate the birthday of the youngest person in our year. HW (now HJ) was finally 40. Everyone was there for the party:

• Spotted for the first time in 25 years, MH brought along his wife C
• HB surprised everyone as brunette, rather than blonde
• SC (now SL) came on her own to have a good old moan about the hassle of filling in expenses claim forms
• GG and his wife J (was JS) milled around in the background

SB was missing, most likely due to a dispute over money. Back in the 1980s HW’s parents discovered that SB’s father had stolen all the funds that the two families had contributed to the joint purchase of a narrow boat. HW’s father had never been able to forgive the crime.

HW’s big birthday treat was a drive up the mountain side past all the waving workmen. From a ledge at the top a Welshman sang happy birthday. We were on such a high that we all agreed to train for the Olympics. Our next rendez-vous would be London 2012.

=======

Back at work, PT and I took great care laying down powered rat poison in our office as part of the strategy to kill off the mice. TPR was strangely jealous that the pair of us had been plotting together. He wrenched me away for the weekend. I was parcelled into the car with the suitcases that were already packed. I dreaded to imagine the mismatched outfits to be assembled from the random collection of clothes and shoes stuffed into the bags.