I’m on a train to Cardiff for a Christmas meeting and lunch we have to pay for ourselves. I realised before I left for the train that Christmas jumpers were optional, sadly all my jumpers are in the wash and so the only option is to wear the damn thing. My jacket zip doesn’t work so it’s visible and projects outwards due to the thickness of the amusing Jesus DJing transfer. God I look like a cunt. I have my book and was rattling through the penultimate chapter; the guy’s having a breakdown in a hotel in Caracas, he’s kicked his girlfriend out. And then 2 people get on at Gloucester. Start talking shop right behind me. Turns out Gemma can’t look at the lady behind me when they’re in a meeting together, this appears to be due to the “Cardiff Incident”. Why can’t Gemma just let it go? I’m listening and hoping to find out, not being nosey but they’re talking too loud for me to concentrate on my book, which I’m enjoying, and must have quiet. Gemma’s holding the ship competently since the lady talking was off on maternity leave, but now she’s back, I think Gemma is resenting having to reapply for her job.

He’s talking as her superior, imparting advice, making an example of Sue Smith, she’s been given an opportunity and seems to have seized the day. I can imagine what these people look like, I think he’s got a thin moustache and thinning strawberry hair, she’s blonde with darker strands. Smart casual complimented with lanyards of some description.

I’m off Cardiff awaits