A fine bromance

One of my favourite colleagues upped and left today. Sixteen months or thereabouts. Luke Skywalker to my Obi-Wan Kenobi? Dumb to my Dumber? Laurel to my Hardy? Watson to my Holmes? He's a sharp intellect and a dry wit and all I could use to keep ahead of him was my extra thirty years of cunning and experience. A better man than I, Gunga Din. I shall miss him. We went to Annie's tea room for buck rarebit in black and white with Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson (I swear they still occasionally ask for coupons and a sight of your ration book in that establishment). Laughed and reminisced and scandalised those around us; never seen so many colonels spluttering through their dentures. Then we did the photoshoot back at the office before he ducked out, leaving me his desk to occupy. 

As for the rest:

After a very long working week of late nights, deadly deadlines, and groaning workloads, I finally made it to Friday with my soul intact. Came home, cleaned like a skivvy on speed, and am now going out with TSM for food and a glass of wine. I shall sleep well tonight ...