When my dear friend and work colleague Christopher Page asked whether I'd like a retirement party, I said yes, provided I didn't have to make a speech. Well, the party was last night, and a very good one too, but I was not to get off so lightly. I had prepared (and delivered - in response to all sorts of embarrassing reminiscences Christopher came up with in his speech in my favour) a "non-speech": this morning of course I can think clearly of all the witty things I might have said.
I had parcelled up presents for Christopher (who is about to be 50) and for Lisa, my wonderful secretary, and had them in a Tesco's bag. When we arrived at Christopher and Celia's house their son Leo pointed us to a parking spot near the (rather full) skip. I rested the bag on top of the skip for one moment whilst I helped Agnes with her baby carrier, when before you could say Synecdoche there was Agnes unwrapping one of the presents, thinking she had found something worth scavenging from the skip. Eek, I cried (just in time).
And coming away, we did indeed drive into the sunset, and (for a few minutes anyway) a beautiful red sky.