I made somebody cry this week. A lot of people, actually. No, I wasn’t being horrible – I’d written a scene that was acted out in front of over 2,000 colleagues at our staff conference.
Some were visibly moved by it.
It was about a man who has become a hoarder after losing his wife. He has shut himself away from the world and won’t let anyone in.
A member of staff goes to see him to check he’s OK.
Stood outside his flat, she talks to him through the door, telling him how her mum’s death affected her and her dad. With the door on the chain, the man accepts to look at a photo of her mum on her mobile which she passes through.
By the end of the scene, with trust built, he agrees to come out of his flat and go for a coffee with her.
I thought it rang true when I wrote it – I had run the idea by a colleague who specialises in hoarding cases and he gave it the thumbs up. But I was quietly pleased when I saw the tissues come out as people watched it.
“The timing of the conference couldn’t have been worse… We put our Brighton house on the market last week”
The conference has been my life for the past month or so. It finished yesterday, having run over 7 days, so that staff could attend at a time to fit their diaries.
Although it suited the business, the timing of the conference couldn’t have been worse for me. Things have been rather busy at home…
We put our Brighton house on the market last week, you see.
Sadly, the estate agent tells me it may take a while to sell because they rely on Londoners snapping up homes in this coastal party town. There is a distinct lack of Londoners looking to move to Brighton right now, he says.
Southern Rail’s pitiful performance of late and the uncertainty of Brexit – with a housing crash feared by many – are making potential buyers cautious.
I hope he’s wrong, as we have something lined up in France… I daren’t talk about that yet for fear of jinxing it – but let’s hope someone offers to buy the Brighton house very soon so that we can make that next step.
Otherwise it will be me reaching for the Kleenex to dry my tears.