Like most of us I'm sure I had hoped to slope off a bit early on the last day but this was one of those things that couldn't be avoided so, as the new boy, I drew the short straw for myself.
Unfortunately, this also meant hanging round at the office till 4pm to man the phones etc. Just in case.
So it was fair to say I was a bit frazzled as the day wore on.
Luckily Mrs P took pity on me and prepared a rather sumptuous-looking filled roll for my lunch.
Unluckily I left it in the fridge when I left in the morning and only discovered that fact when lunchtime rolled round.
Oh well, at least I'd have something to look forward to when I got home. Maybe I'd even wash it down with the last can of my cold pre-mixed gin and tonic sitting alongside in the fridge.
To be honest, the thought of the snack and sup to come kept me going for the rest of the day as the expected peacefulness of the afternoon erupted into an unexpected frenzy of last-minute phone calls and emails.
Eventually the dots on the digital clock joined to show it being 4pm and I was out the door in a blur.
I had an hour to do one last little job for my beloved before the 5pm traffic swallowed me whole.
With my stomach rumbling, I rocked up to our local DIY outlet to buy the screws we needed to put up Mrs P's new towel rail before the kids arrived.
Obviously, this job was the most important job ever in history and had to be completed immediately. This is because while they are over 30 now our children's lives would be completely ruined if they had to pick up a towel that was on the bench or still in the towel cupboard rather than on a special towel rail requiring 0.3 per cent less effort. Ahem.
Anyway.
I let that particular frustration slide and found the screws I needed and made for the exit.
I was met on the way by a charming young lady who gave me a raffle ticket and the instruction: "Check with the girl at the exit. You may have won a prize."
Well, this was indeed some excitement to finish this busy day. I checked my ticket and found the number "73" emblazoned in red.
Upon presenting this to the young lady at the exit she flew into something of an excitable rant.
"Oh my God," she said, like many of the younger set today. "I'm sure we have that number here somewhere."
By now I was well and truly interested, particularly when I saw the raffle prizes on the table at the exit.
We were talking some pretty good stuff. Certainly not your average little packet of ping pong balls type thing.
My interest expanded when she picked up a brand-new power drill and plonked it down in front of me.
To say I was excited was something of an understatement.
"I'm sure this is number 73," she said a little unconvinced. Then it was a case of turning the box over and over and over while she searched for the corresponding numbers, my
heartbeat ramping up at least a dozen beats with each turn.
And then, just like that, my dreams were crushed.
"Oh sorry," said the young girl. "It's actually number 37. Yours is 73. I thought the
numbers looked familiar."
Groan. By the time I got out of the shop and back to the car and joined the throng of humanity trying to get home for Christmas, I was tired, irritated, hungry and back thinking about my filled roll and gin and tonic again.
Oh well. At least that was something to look forward to.
After what seemed like an eternity, I managed to escape the traffic flow and pull into my driveway. A familiar red car was in my usual parking spot.
Wearily I climbed the front steps and went through the hallway to the kitchen where I found Number One son who had evidently got away from work early and driven all day to get home to us sooner than expected.
I have to say it certainly was great to see him – until I realised he'd done what all kids do when they first get home to mum and dad, no matter how old they are.
He'd raided our fridge and was drinking my ice-cold gin and tonic and eating my precious filled roll.
Right at that moment I think if I had won the power drill I might have thrown it at him.
