The Cumberland

A wee trot round Waitrose in the morning pushing the trolley for the SK. She’s very bossy though – she keeps making me park it while she sources whatever it is that we need. As we have so many evenings out, big meals together are oot and it’s going to be snacking all the way. For her, this means all manner of exotic delights; for me, I guess it’s back to fish fingers and bratwurst.
And we bump into burdensome Steve, still busily working away amongst the drinks. He points out a particularly good offer on Barra Gin which it feels foolish to ignore. That’s my August sorted. Well, OK, the first week.
Later, up to the Cumbie as my old colleague AG is retiring. Shocking that such youngsters are now eligible for release. He even brought along his grown up kids and missus! BMcK was there too – he’d heard my bad news and he remembered the camping trips the Dads and kids did back in 2001. Robbie had brought his guitar along.
PA turns up too – his respiratory system is such that we have to retire to the garden to minimise the risk to his pipes. How we reminisced. It was only round the corner that we IT powerhouses set us on the way to world domination. Ha. Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair. Still, we all managed to hold on to our pensions.