"In such a jocund company"

One of the teachers at the school retires this year and I was invited along to a farewell event, this afternoon. It was the school sponsored walk, today, so everyone else was dressed casually and appropriately for what was a rather hot, sunny day. I turned up in a suit and a tie.

The large open plan space in which the drinks were being held is neatly divided in two by a large counter. Most of the staff were either sat in the front part of the room or outside on the adjoining... veranda, I suppose you'd call it. The back part of the room had tables spread out for a buffet later on and there was also a bar.

I acquired a drink and circulated a little until the formal part of the proceedings began, with a few words from the head. At this point I realised there was nowhere left to sit in the front part of the room and, if I stood, I would just be in someone's way. Thus, I retreated into the back part of the room where, stood next to the bar, I had a good view of proceedings. I was just in time to be served another drink, too.

The head handed over to a former chair of governors, who always speaks entertainingly, whilst giving the nerveracking impression that he is completely unprepared. Then the head spoke again, with a perfect blend of sentiment, interest and wit. It was all going very well. Admittedly, I had finished my drink and it was rather hot in my suit but I assumed we'd have a few words from the departing member of staff and all would be well.

However, it turned out that one of his colleagues was going to speak first. That seemed like a nice touch and that started off well, too. However, it soon became clear that this was going to be more than a few words. I was still perspiring and, on the low table next to me, I couldn't help noticing that a bottle of prosecco appeared to be doing the same.

The speech proceeded, punctuated by laughs from the front part of the room. A bead of condensation rolled smoothly down the side of the bottle. I mopped my brow and shifted my weight.

Another drink seemed like just the ticket at this stage but then I thought how unfair that was on all the people who weren't positioned next to the bar. On the other hand, they were all sat comfortably, clad only in shorts and t-shirts. More laughs from next door. Another furtive glance at the bottle. I thought of the prosecco inside, going flat and getting warm. That seemed a terrible waste.

I discreetly poured myself a glass of the cold liquid. God, it was wonderful. And quickly gone. I poured another.

After, I think, about 45 minutes the presentation finished and the chap who was leaving stood up to say a few words. I know him quite well, actually. I wouldn't say he was shy exactly, nor would I say he lacks confidence, but I knew he wouldn't much enjoy the attention. He didn't have any notes. Yes, a few words, that was all we'd get.

I was forgetting, however, that he's been teaching for 34 years. Standing up in front of an audience and chatting is what he's been doing all his working life. Another twenty minutes, albeit very enjoyable: some jokes, some anecdotes, some sentiment that caused a few tears in the crowd.

And so it was that just after six pm, I found myself walking home in the sunshine, having drunk a bottle of prosecco on an empty stomach. I stopped only to take this photo - complete with a lonely cloud - before grabbing a bite to eat and changing out of my suit. What a relief! After that I ambled along to Avanti, to sit in the garden with my book until some friends arrived for drinks in the balmy evening sun.