Back in the days of the shop. The very early days. There was a night out, funded by a lens company, probably in lieu of our wages for a month or so. We had to drive from our base in Worcester to wherever the Sigma and Jessop event was taking place. Fortunately, we had a designated driver, a certain person of South Eastern descent who held overall responsibilty for the safety and conduct of this small band of maverick retailers.

On the way back, he took us for pizza to absorb some of the alochol. Then we went to someone’s house, allowing one member of staff (not me) to fall asleep in the loo. We took him home and knocked on the door. His girlfriend answered, and was informed “Its okay, he’s drunk”, whereupon the drunken one fell in, and the door was violently slammed closed. How we laughed.

On the way there, down one of the lanes, we’d encountered a couple engaged in personal activity in a car. Once we’d finished the call of nature, the driver of the minibus flashed the lights and honked the horn. The guy in the car was quite annoyed.

In the morning, the van and one remaining renegade retailer drove to the Malvern Hills, to watch the sun come up and, unfortunately, to cover the floor of the hire vehicle with vomit.

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