This is as close as I’m getting to my beloved Cornwall today, a crummy pub in Slough of all places.

It’s been a long day. I was rudely(!) awakened by my lovely friend Ginny this morning who opened my bedroom door at her house and said ‘Linda, it’s 7am and I thought your taxi was coming at 7.15am’. I won’t repeat what my verbal response was as I jumped from my bed and made a dash for the bathroom!!! I stayed with Ginny last night after spending the evening moderating a group discussion at our offices in Epsom until 11pm. We then went to her place, sat on the sofa and set the world to rights for a couple of hours so it was a late night.

This morning’s hurry was a taxi ride to another colleague’s house for my ‘lift’ to our two day Board meeting, where hair shirts and self-flagellation were the order of the day. I was tired and a bit jaded and in a distinctly bad humour for much of the day.

After the Board Meeting ended and most of my colleagues were settling themselves into a few hours in their Jacuzzis and spas, my day was still well into work mode with another group discussion, this time in sunny (not) Slough. I suppose I should have a love of Slough, given that it’s the birthplace (I think) of both of DMs parents but I think even they would find it hard to provide a glowing report of its charms.

Over lunch, when Ginny and I were explaining where we were going for the evening that prevented us from participating in the sparkling wit and repartee of dinner with the rest of the directors of our business, I was told about a TV show which was a social experiment to see whether it was possible to make the residents of this overspill town from West London happy. I must say, I am intrigued now to know more because apparently there was a whole series made about the attempts to achieve this feat.

In fact though, I do have some fond memories of the place. My two girlie buddies, Shazbop and Claz used to meet me at Slough Station regularly when we were off for the weekend in Esther the Fiesta. Neither of them could drive at the time, so Claz used to train it from Reading to Slough, Shazbop would come out of London on the train and I would nip over there from my flat in Southall, pick them up then drive off to some far-flung university to spend the evening in the Students Union bar watching some band or other. We’d do that sort of thing so regularly that Slough Station became known as the place where ‘all good things started’. Mind you, we met at Slough Station but as far as I’m aware, I only ever went to a single gig at the delightful Slough College as it was then known, now more grandly described as ‘Thames Valley University’.

Anyway, I digress, I’ve worked many, many times at the viewing studio there but had never noticed that the pub next door bore this moniker. As we drove out of the car park, I yelled ‘STOP’ – I want that as my pic for today. Ginny was eager to help me so she drove into their car park, parked and allowed me to get my shot.

How I miss my ‘real’ world.

Last year? Utterly LUSH!