This has been a week of goodbyes. Although I finished work last week, Isabel had organised the traditional NHS tea party and all I had to do was make a guest appearance. Isabel’s baking is the stuff of legends and lots of colleagues popped in for cake and so say au revoir.
These lovely flowers were a nice suprise, they and all the cards are cheering my rather bare lounge.
Isabel had also composed a poem which I will share with you:
So Joyce is off to La Belle France;
I can’t believe it’s true.
We’ll make her cake and say ‘bonne chance’
and ‘bon voyage, adieu’.
The raison d’être of our work
remains, as she knows well.
Argyll & Bute drive us berserk
in déjà-vu-like hell.
We’ll miss her nicely timed bon mot,
her elegance and style.
A calm je ne sais quoi will go
(though Gill’s still in denial).
So merci for just being here;
we’ll rendezvous again
when Alba Yarns’ entrepreneur
is basking in her fame.
We won’t forget, when we’re bereft.
My gift – this epitaph:
‘She knitted us a PPF
and then she b*******d off.’
What a star!!!! What a talented lady you are Isabel.