Moving Moments

It felt very real yesterday when I walked into my manager's office.

"Have you got two minutes?"
"Yep,"
"Er, I'd like to hand in my notice of resignation."

For once, I actually saw a little flash of disappointment in his eyes. His normally poker-faced expression was disturbed and regained within half a second though, and as predicted he simply stared at me, forcing me to explain why I felt this was the right decision, without saying a word. Good tactic that. I fell for it.

And so, at the end of that I said thank you and left the office, and he said "Don't thank me for that!" and I drove home feeling gradually better as I got closer to Reading.

~

"Mr stubbs," wrote Martin in a text, "Your room is going to be amazing lol i hope.just wondering do you need the use of a sofa?got a spare and before i dump it just asking about?"

What a legend. While I sit here, contemplating the end of a job and the start of an adventure, Martin is decorating my room at the vicarage, and sorting out a sofa to go in it. I can see him doing his Michael Jackson moves with a roller. I have some good friends.

~

"I've decided to accept your offer," he said, half smiling today. He'd called me in just moments after Jen had bounced up to me and said, "How dare you leave!" with a laugh. I didn't have time to reply before my phone rang and for the second time in two days I was in Bob's office discussing my future. He placed his hand flat on the letter I had handed him yesterday. "I can't compete with that," he said.

I was inclined to agree. And for once the man who had accused me of having 'slopey-shoulders' and described me as part of an 'atrophy of authors' was having to admit that I was going to work for Someone better.

"No," I smiled, "I don't think you can."