Things have gone downhill for us business-wise. We had to wind up the company after the Timmins Interiors thing (how we we supposed to know that his brother was a lawyer?), and the contracting market's shot (well, if you're over 25, anyway), so we had to identify other revenue streams, as Timmy Costello would have put it. We still dabble a bit though, and Bob working at the school means we can get our hands on software and consumables without too much trouble. Put it this way - we can still afford a pint. It could be worse.

The big success story around here is, of course, Barker and Pierce's World-Dominant Plants and Conifers Mega-Corporation, or whatever it's called this week ("We've got branches everywhere" is a damn good slogan though - we've got to give that to them).

Like most people, we expected Bernard to basically go to sleep when he moved there (after all, he'd been that way most of the time at JAB), but instead he's been Mr Dynamite, with old George hanging on for dear life as he's expanded the business faster than a VM swap file under Visual Studio. Now the thing's such a goldmine that they can sit back, put that half-brained plonker Danny Moss in charge of the garden centre, and still make a profit. It's all right for some, isn't it?

Of course there was some trouble over the garden centre job, with George and Bernard's mate Andy Miller flying off the handle because they hadn't offered it to him. They were right though - Miller's a waste of space, and always has been (we can remember him when he was a management trainee at JAB, and no better at it than Danny). Still it does seem a bit ruthless to freeze their old mucker out like that, but then that's how you get to be stinking rich, isn't it - by being ruthless.

We don't begrudge them their success though - they've worked hard, and they both put their pensions on the line to start the business up. They've just had a bit more luck than us, that's all.

On the subject of bearing grudges, however, what about our all-time least favourite person (and one-time boss), Christopher J Llewellyn, BSc (Hons), MBCS? He seems to have disappeared off the map altogether. First there was that business, then he left JAB all of a sudden and no-one's seen hide nor hair of him since. Rumours of his whereabouts include the French Foreign Legion, a monastery and demotion to junior programmer in a far-flung Broadleys outpost, but most of those have turned out to be Danny Moss playing silly-buggers as usual.

The word from a more reliable source (that slick Matt Smedley bloke) is that Llewellyn's no longer employed within the Broadleys group, and that no-one knows where he's gone. We reckon he'll turn up again, like that nasty smell you think you've got rid of from behind the fridge. We could be wrong though - it has been known.

I must admit that there's a certain satisfaction in having Chris Llewellyn's old job, sitting here in the very office where he used to give me bollockings for installing unauthorised software or not being onside enough about the Great Windows March Forward. Not that there's much left from the Llewellyn era now - new systems, refurbished offices, an almost entirely new team, it's all changed. But I've kept a couple of Windows 2000 installation CDs, as a reminder of the old days. They've got special memories for me.

Bernard Pierce is credited with saving Llewellyn's bacon with his legendary speech to Broadley's MD, exposing the damage that Barrett's cost-cutting measures (including, as it happened, making Llewellyn redundant) were doing to JAB. But in a way that speech also caused Llewellyn's demise.

It made Broadleys take a good look at JAB and realise that, with some proper investment, it could be a seriously profitable business. So the money went in, and that included a budget for a total overhaul of the firm's IT. I was at Group at the time, and I remember getting a sneak preview of the figures - they were enough to make your eyes water. They were also enough to give Llewellyn his dream of a totally integrated system, purpose-designed from the ground up, running the entire business from sales prospect to site office.

What surprised me was that they actually let him try to make it happen. I mean, they surely must have known by then that he was all management-speak and no action (I certainly dropped enough hints at Group), but no, they let him loose on it. Anyone who knew the real Llewellyn could have told them what would happen - and sure enough it did. It wasn't a pretty sight, a grown man behaving like that. I didn't actually see any of it, but from what Matt told me I'm glad I didn't.

Not that I should be complaining, of course. When they offered me the chance to sort out the wreckage and take it from there I thought about it for approximately four milliseconds then started clearing my desk at HQ. Goodness knows it scared me, but  I knew I had to go for it. It was the start of nearly four years of unrelenting hard slog, but now we've done it. It's been the opportunity of a lifetime, for all of us who've worked on it. We're now Broadleys' flagship IT department, and frankly we bloody well deserve to be.

Someone said to me recently that it's a good job "old Bernard" isn't here any more, because he'd have sabotaged our IT overhaul like he did all of Llewellyn's projects. I don't think that's fair, or true. Contrary to popular (and misinformed) belief, Bernard was no Luddite - he could just tell the difference between badly planned change for change's sake (i.e. most of what Llewellyn came up with) and genuine progress (for proof of that, just look at what he's done with his garden centre business). I also like to think that he'd have trusted me, where for very good reasons he never trusted Llewellyn.

Apparently it's a big mystery where Chris Llewellyn went when he left JAB. I know where he went (I still forward the occasional email to him, although he never replies), but I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone. It seemed the least I could do, given that I was taking over his empire. He was a crap boss and a useless IT Manager, but he's entitled to some privacy. And anyway, I'm not the only one keeping quiet about his whereabouts. I think he's better off where he is now.

As for me, there's a slight sense of anti-climax at the moment, with the last phase of the integrated system signed off, and development switched to maintenance mode. But there'll be new challenges, here or at Group - or, who knows, somewhere else altogether if that's where the challenge is. "Your problem is, you can never resist a challenge", Bernard used to say to me when I was an over-keen Planning Junior, nicking IT's manuals to read at night. Too right, Bernard - and nothing's changed!

Talking of challenges, I was chatting to Bernard last week, and he said he'd had an email from - of all people - Cathy Reeve (aka Ms Stony-Face of Purchasing). Apparently she's working in Africa now, organising supplies for a medical charity. Bernard, being the forgive-and-forget type, invited her for a drink in Peg's next time she's home on leave, and apparently she's dead keen.

Now for a confession (keep it to yourself, and for goodness sake don't tell Dan Moss!). I used to quite fancy Cathy! OK, she sometimes came across like Ghengis Khan's nastier sister, but I reckon that was just an act - she thought she had to be a hard-nut to survive as a female manager. And anyway, I used to find that toughness quite attractive, especially when we were arguing hammer and tongs about IT implementation. 

I plan to invite myself along to that reunion in Peg's, and subtly check out whether there's a Mr Cathy in Africa. If not, then who knows? Who dares wins, that's what I say!

I'm the only one of the old gang left now. Rose went part-time at the Council last year, (nice for some!), and Sheila - well, she was never going to stay apart from Bernard for long, was she? Of course Bernard left back in 2001 to run that garden business with George Barker. We all expected him to bring Sheila over, but not Danny Moss! And letting him run that big garden centre of theirs - they must be mad!

My Dave says it's obviously a tax dodge (Danny loses them lots of money so they pay less tax, or something like that). Mind you he's been there nearly two years now and the garden centre seems to be doing pretty well, so perhaps Bernard saw something in him that we (definitely!) didn't.

Don't get me wrong though - this is still a good place to work. Not long after Bernard left there was a big announcement that Broadleys were starting a "major investment programme" in JA Brown. The old hands all thought the same thing - redundancies - but in fact it turned out to mean the opposite.

The whole building was done out from top to bottom - new carpets, furniture, even new walls - and we got all new computers as well. At first that smarmy IT bloke (used to give me the creeps!) was running them, but then that business happened and he was quietly got rid of, and nice little Amrat (we always liked him) came back from Group to sort everything out. And guess what - they actually work! That's taken some getting used to (no more 4.45pm lock-ups!), but now they're really brilliant. Doing this job is twice as easy as it used to be, and I'm earning more money for doing it - can't be bad!

Things do change more quickly these days. Matt's only been been in charge of Planning for five years, and already he's off, with some mega-promotion to Regional Manager at Group. They reckon he got the job thanks to Chapman, our Managing Director - and he's off too, back to Group like Matt. People used to settle in for life here, but now I reckon it's just me, Joan Davies and Andy Miller over in Contracts. Still, someone's got to provide the steadying influence, haven't they?

And of course I have had my promotion - Senior Planning Clerk, with a nice little wage increase and a hike in the firm's pension contributions too. Phillipa (our planning exec - I'd call her the new Cathy Reeve, except that she's actually a nice girl) said that I should have asked to go on the exec development track, broken through the "glass ceiling" (whatever that is). She doesn't understand though - what I want is a job I know I can do well, with someone else there to sort out the problems, and pay for any extra hours I work. We don't all want to be executives.

I really should say something about Danny's wedding. Julie is Rose's niece (in fact he met her when Rose got her some temp work here). We all knew Danny's form on the romance front ("love 'em, buy 'em a Bacardi Breeze and leave 'em" sums it up), and as a result Rose was dead against it, and warned Danny off in no uncertain terms, which of course he ignored.

On the wedding day Rose was there with her brothers giving Danny such an evil eye that I'm surprised the little bugger didn't run a mile, but he stuck in there and went through with it. Now they've got two kiddies, he's holding down a really good job, and Julie thinks the sun shines out of him. Rose still doesn't trust him, but I think he really might have changed. Jules is one of the best, and a good woman can change a man, can't she?
 

You've caught me literally as I'm clearing my desk. After six eventful and very rewarding years at JA Brown, I'm returning to Broadleys Head Office to take up main Board responsibilities for the group's core business, Broadleys Contract Services (UK). It's a tremendous responsibility, and a challenge I thoroughly relish. However there's no doubt that JA Brown has "gotten under my skin", and I'll continue to take an interest in the company and its staff, among whom, present and past, I count some of the best people I've worked with.

JA brown has, in fact, been transformed over the past five years, a process which began, exactly as legend has it, with the speech made by (then) Purchasing Manager Bernard Pierce, in which he offered a devastating critique of the cost-cutting measures imposed by (then) Finance Director Neil Barratt.

Bernard succeeded, where I had failed, in getting Broadleys' Board to look seriously at the potential of JAB. What they found was a solid, loyal client base (at least those who hadn't yet been disaffected by Barratt's cuts), a superb skills base (at least those who hadn't yet been made redundant) and a market in which there was extraordinary potential for growth. This potential was being destroyed by the short-term chase for margins, an almost unimaginable waste.

To their credit, the Board moved quickly, cancelling Barrett's cuts and locating and re-instating many of the redundant staff (Barrett, meanwhile, was himself made redundant, a decision with which I felt no urge to disagree). They then authorised a capital investment programme which, though modest for a group of Broadleys' size (well under £50m), was more than sufficient to allow the company to gear itself up for major expansion. The results speak for themselves - turnover increased by 260% over five  years, with profitability maintained throughout.

For a business that had been in real danger of going under, that's a staggering achievement, and a testament to the talent and commitment of its staff.  However it's one which, sadly, Bernard Pierce has not been here to participate in. He left JAB immediately after his speech, despite requests to reconsider from figures as senior as Broadleys MD.

I am satisfied, however, that there was no rancour in his decision - it was simply that he was offered a partnership in a promising business by his oldest friend (and former JAB colleague), and took the opportunity. And what a success they've made of it - their growth over the past four years has actually exceeded JAB's.

I often see Bernard (I shop regularly in their garden centre, now managed by one of Bernard's JAB protégées, Dan Moss). Enjoying a coffee with him recently, I joked that at this rate his company will soon be big enough to launch a takeover bid for JAB, if not for the entire Broadleys group. He laughed, but there was a glint in his eye that showed he has plenty of ambition left. I'm rather glad we're not competing in the same market! 

And in fact (although this is not widely known) Bernard has continued to be involved in the decision-making process at Broadleys. When our overhaul of JAB's IT infrastructure suffered a sudden and rather alarming leadership crisis (still referred to here as "that business", I believe), we needed a capable, dynamic replacement, at the shortest possible notice, to pick up the pieces and drive the project forward. I had a candidate in mind, but it was a difficult decision given the effect that the pressure of such an ambitious undertaking had had on the previous incumbent.

I consulted Bernard (informally, of course), and he was adamant that Amrat Advani would not only be capable of meeting the challenge, but would, in fact, be the ideal choice. This proved to be true; not only did Amrat put the project quickly back on course, but he went on to produce a finished system which, I believe, is considerably better than the one we had originally envisaged. Not for the first time, an alumnus of the Bernard Pierce School Of Management has turned out to be an outstanding leader. In my view that is anything but coincidental.

I'm taking two such alumni with me back to Group. Matt Smedley will be running BCS's South Western division, as the company's youngest ever divisional manager. And although he doesn't know it yet, I have something in mind for Amrat Advani which will make even the complete regeneration of JAB's IT systems seem a modest undertaking. As Bernard said, Amrat can never resist a challenge, which in this case is just as well!

I've enjoyed it here. And I've stayed far longer than I planned to. But as David Chapman says, JAB can get under your skin. Now he's off back to Group to run BCS, and I'm off there too, to run the South West region for him. It's the chance of a lifetime - a direct route to the Board, as David said - and I can't wait to get started.

I'll miss JAB though. June and I are the only two left from the Purchasing team I originally joined there, which of course was led by the maestro himself, Bernard Pierce. Bernard is a legend at Broadleys - people still come up to me at HQ and say "did you really work for him - what was he like?", as if he was Field Marshall Montgomery or something. In fact he was more like Marlon Brando's Colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse Now, but in a good way.

When I came to JAB, Purchasing really was the final frontier, where ordinary mortals feared to tread (mainly because of the welcome they were likely to receive from the Girls). Bernard would be holed up in his office, often scared to tread outside it himself for fear of the welcome the Girls (Sheila excepted, of course!) would give him. Dan (then 'Danny') Moss would be up to some scam (duplicating hookey CDs, running a website on JAB's bandwidth), while Rose and June would be typing up dockets while holding three simultaneous conversations about so-and-so's wayward teenager or Mrs. Whatshername's operation. It was chaos. And it was the most productive department in the entire company.

In a way I loved it, but I also knew it couldn't last - it was too dependent on the individual personalities, and these days a firm can't work that way. When I took over I set about changing it, and by and large it's worked out - the roles are important now, not the personalities, yet we're still up there near the top of the productivity league. And I like to think I've made those changes happen in a decent, humane way, as Bernard would have done. No-one was made to feel wrong or worthless, and those who've left (like Rose, Dan and Sheila) went because the right opportunity came up, not because they were unhappy here.

Strictly speaking, Dan and Sheila were poached by Bernard, but I think everyone agreed that they were 'his' people anyway, so he was entitled to them. There was certainly no bad feeling over it, and we still enjoy a pint together on a regular basis. Dan had turned into a pretty good planning exec by the time he left (that's good management for you!), but even so I'm surprised at just how well he's done at the garden centre - he's actually got more staff than I have, something he enjoys reminding me about. He's turned into a pretty good squash player too, although Julie's home cooking keeps enough pounds on him to let me win most matches. I'm grateful for that!

Things haven't worked out so well for some of Bernard's other former colleagues. Andy Miller seemed, frankly, a broken man after Bernard left, and he's never fully recovered. He was supposed to take over as the All Stars' Father of Chapel, but it fell apart - he just didn't have the leadership qualities that Bernard (and, I gather, George before him) had brought to the job, and the canteen rituals ('order of the Free Tea' and all that stuff) became a bit of an embarrassment.

Then there was the upset between him, Bernard and George over the garden centre manager's job. A lot of us questioned the wisdom of putting Dan in charge of the place ("A prize lunatic running the asylum, or what?", as June put it), but no-one thought they were wrong not to offer it to Andy. I mean, I like the man, and even now I can spend a pleasant couple of hours in Peg's with him after the management meeting, but I wouldn't employ him in a million years. Basically he's a skiver, who's held on all these years by the skin of his teeth and a lot of patronage from some key figures at JAB. The trouble is that those key figures have all gone now, and things don't look good for him.

I'd say they looked even worse for a certain Christopher J. Llewellyn, except that I haven't the foggiest what's happened to him or where he is, so he may well be a millionaire running a string of Internet gambling sites now for all I know. I was here when 'the business' happened (in fact I was involved in it), and I can confirm that it was not a pretty sight. I also suspect that it wasn't entirely unforeseen by David Chapman, who seemed to have Amrat primed and ready to step in at a moment's notice when the organic matter hit the air circulation device.

Given Llewellyn's legendary ability to hold on, leech-like, to his job (he even got Bernard to get his redundancy revoked!), a plan that gave him enough rope to hang himself, while having his replacement all geared up to take over, would be a pretty sharp one - and David is nothing if not sharp! Still, I'm not sure if even he thought it would turn quite that ugly.

I'm convinced that Amrat knows where Llewellyn is, but he refuses point blank to talk about it. My sources can only tell me that he definitely isn't employed anywhere in the Broadleys Group any more (not unless he's using a false name and NI number, anyway), but I've still got this funny feeling that some people - not just Amrat, either - know where he is. Perhaps I'm losing my touch!

Still, onward and upward - or westward, in my case. We've found a great house in Bristol (courtesy of Broadleys ever-generous relocation package) and I can't wait to get started. Wherever I end up though, I'll never forget by time at JAB.

I shouldn't be here by rights. The pub chain that owns this place had it marked down for a total revamp, calling it the "Pig & Pokery" and selling designer beers and those designer flatbreads with bits of funny cheese on them that cost five quid. That would have been the end of me, but fate - or should I say, friends in high places - intervened. I didn't know I had any, but one day Bernard and George came in with a bloke I vaguely remembered as one of the high-ups at JAB when Bernard was there. Very well spoken, he was, and very polite, though not much of a drinker as he only had a half (and Bernard and George stuck to a pint each, so I knew he must be important). They only stayed for half an hour, but on the way out Bernard winked and whispered "it'll be OK". It was like the great days of their schemes at JAB all over again.

Anyway, Bernard was right - it was OK. The following week our area manager came round and said he had good news for me. The revamp was off, and instead we'd been officially designated a "high value heritage establishment", which turned out to mean a nice lick of paint all round, a new carpet in the snug and no designer flatbreads. They even replaced the cracked urinal in the gents. And the area manager, I must say, has been a lot more polite since then too. He used to make it pretty plain that I was getting in the way of his plan to turn all the old-style boozers round here into designer beer pubs, and that he'd much rather it if I disappeared. Now he's a nice as anything, asking me if I've got enough beermats, offering me free samples, nothing too much trouble. He's just authorised satellite TV in the public for the sports, and I'd been trying to get that for ten years.

I never found out exactly who that bloke was, but young Amrat says he's pretty sure it was someone called Tim Costello, who is very high up in the world of big city finance. Apparently he used to be a director at JAB, but nowadays he's on the board of an 'institutional investor' (whatever one of those is), which is about as high up as it gets. Amrat says what probably happened was that he rang up the pub chain's top brass and threatened to put 'shareholder pressure' on them (whatever that is) if they didn't drop their plan to convert this place. I don't know if that's true, but I'm still here, and the area manager gave me a free case of Scotch last week, so someone put pressure on somebody, that's for sure.

Bernard, of course, has never admitted anything, and neither has George. All they'd say was that they enjoyed a drink with an old friend in their favourite pub, and that he liked it here. One thing I've learned is that it doesn't pay to ask too many questions, so that's good enough for me. But I owe them, and I know it. It's typical that they'd do a thing like that for someone, then refuse to take any credit. They're two of the very best, and always have been.

Sadly  the same can't really be said for their mate - or should I say currently ex-mate - Andy. I came that close to barring him when he was mouthing off about them in here over that job business, and that was before they did me that favour. Andy wanted it so he could put his feet up - he as much as said that to me one night after he'd had a few. I must admit that at first I thought they'd been a bit off not even telling him about it, but when I saw the trouble he made over it, I can see why they got young Danny safely installed before letting on. Bernard's a lot tougher than he looks, and always has been. And Danny's been a surprise to all of us, especially to his aunt-in-law Rose, who predicted he'd break little Julie's heart and leave her with a couple of kiddies on Income Support. She says she still doesn't completely trust him, but I reckon he's grown up. He always corrects me when I call him Danny ("it's Dan these days, Peg"), which I find comical.

The old lot still come in, though Bernard and George not so often now that it's their own business they'd be letting down if they had hangovers the next day! Matt's off soon, of course, and a little bird tells me that Amrat won't be far behind him, so it'll be quieter. One chap I never saw again was that Chris Llewellyn, the one they used to sing the songs about at the All Stars meetings. He came to Bernard's leaving do, but after that nothing (I think he was more the wine bar type). He was in charge of the computers at JAB, but I heard there was some business there and he disappeared, just like that, and to this day no-one knows where he went. It's a strange old world, isn't it?

Who'd have though it? What I had in mind when Bernard joined me in 2001 was an expansion into conifers, a possible extension to the garden centre, a few years' modest growth then a pleasant retirement while our sons took over the business. Instead the whole thing took of like a rocket, we're doing things I simply never imagined, and the company is a size that would have had my bank manager writing me off as a deluded fool if I'd even suggested it in my original business plan.

And that is all down to Bernard. I've done my bit (good purchasing skills never go out of fashion) but he's been the driving force. In fact he's been quite astonishing.

It started with the conifers. I had his capital earmarked to buy some land for us to use as a nursery, but he said why not stick to our core business - retailing - and look for growers instead. We did, and our volumes, profits and catchment area were three times (yes, three times!) my projections after 18 months. I was happy enough with our website, but he asked for some tips from Dan Moss (of all people, as I then thought), and now we're running an entire bulk delivery service through it. And then, of course, there was the idea of employing Dan as our garden centre manager. Like a certain other staffing idea of Bernard's, it seemed insane at the time, but I went along with it and it's actually worked out well - in Dan's case better than well, as he's doubled the centre's turnover. The man can seem to do no wrong.

Bernard's biggest triumph, however, has been contract gardening services, and in particular his stroke of genius, franchising. He claims the franchise thing was actually Tim Costello's idea, but while Costello may have mentioned it, it was Bernard who put it all together, ran the workshops for potential franchisees, monitored the whole thing, weeded out the dead wood (no pun intended!) and encouraged the ones with potential. Now our green vans cover a 50-mile radius (plus one rather farther afield), and our slogan "We've got branches everywhere" (another of Bernard's masterstrokes) is beginning to come true.

I still don't quite know where the energy for all this has come from, but I do know that after leaving JAB Bernard seemed to take on a new lease of life. He'd been very unhappy during the dark days of Barratt's cost-cutting, and although he'd seen Barratt off, he saw more such battles to come, which was why he decided to leave and join me. I remember him saying that now we could prove that putting quality service and a decent way of doing things before instant profits could still work. I suppose he's been a man on a mission, and he's certainly proved his point.

The irony is, of course, that Broadleys had taken his message to heart too. They invested vast sums in JAB after he left, making it a company someone could be proud to work for again. Bernard could have been part of that (he was, literally, a legend there, and still is today), but I like to think that he's done better for himself by being part of our firm. If things keep going as they are, he'll certainly have a far greater legacy, in financial terms, to hand on to his children. I don't imagine he even thinks about it, but Bernard is now, on paper at least, a rich man.

Of course it hasn't all been plain sailing. The episode I found the hardest was the falling-out with Andy Miller over the garden centre job. I anticipated disagreement between Bernard and myself over it, as Andy had been his closest friend at JAB after I left, but in fact it was Bernard who said first that he just wouldn't be right for it. Some might call that ruthless (Andy, I believe, did), but I know that Bernard agonised over it for weeks, before coming to the conclusion that friendship couldn't extend to risking our core business in the hands of someone who would almost certainly fail to manage it properly.

Bernard insisted on being the one to go and tell Andy that we'd given the job to Dan. And our advice to Andy - that he stick it out at JAB and maximise his pension - was the best he could have received. I've always enjoyed Andy's company, but he's not exactly the world's hardest or most conscientious worker, and it's too late for him to change now, even if he wanted to, which I very much doubt he does. I'm still hoping we'll enjoy his company again in the future though.

It wasn't the same at JAB without Bernard. Matt was an excellent boss - always fair and considerate -  but he was also a typical Broadleys executive, efficient but impersonal. It was more colourful when Bernard was there.

When Bernard offered me a job with him at the garden business, I didn't have to think twice. As he said, it was a new challenge for both of us, and that certainly proved to be true. George Barker's wife, Mary, had been doing the paperwork, and although she's a lovely person, she isn't exactly administrator of the year, so things were in a bit of a mess. I didn't mind though - it was something to get my teeth into, and what's more I could organise things exactly how I wanted them, with nobody from Broadleys Head Office checking up to make sure I was following procedure. I really enjoyed it, actually, and everyone seemed pleased with what I'd done (and who'd have thought I'd have had a very serious, conscientious Dan Moss thanking me for getting "his" budget projections into shape!). It was nice to be back with Bernard, too.

Of course nothing's perfect, and at first I missed Rose and June (although Rose has gone from JAB as well now). But I soon settled in, and with Dan and Bernard there it was almost like being back in Planning anyway. Dan is such a changed man since he got married - I used to dread him coming over to my desk at JAB because I knew it would be for some childish scam (or worse - he was actually a bit of pest at one time), but now we have really nice chats about how our kids are getting on at school, Julie's college course, things like that.  I'm really glad it's all worked out for him.

I do feel sorry for Andy Miller though, who was devastated when he found out that Bernard and George had given the garden centre manager's job to Dan without even telling him they were looking for someone. Everyone says that Andy would have been a disaster in that job, but I worked for him briefly when he was first made Contracts Manager at JAB, and he had plenty of what Matt Smedley calls the "right stuff" then. I think it was just drained out of him by years of the JAB way of doing things, which at times could be pretty old fashioned (I remember typing memos in quintuplet and waiting a week for them all to come back countersigned before putting them into effect). I know he's admitted that he was looking for a soft berth, but who knows - perhaps a change of environment would have made him snap out of it and become more dynamic again.  We'll never know.

Bernard and I work in the same room now,  on our own at the top of the building. If I'm being completely honest I missed looking after him, but now we work more closely than ever, and I like that. Dan says I'm Bernard's "working hours wife", and if I'm being completely honest, I like that too (but please don't tell my husband - I doubt if he'd understand!). I certainly  wouldn't want to be apart from Bernard again.

Time flies. It seems like only yesterday that I was saying goodbye to everyone at JAB, and settling into my eyrie up here above the garden centre. In fact it's been five years, and they've been good ones. I left JAB because I'd had enough, and the most I was hoping for in my new career was something a bit more like the old days, before Broadleys starting sending in teenage management consultants and cost-crazed accountants. In the event it turned out rather better than that.

After 26 years in line management it can come as a bit of a shock to discover that it's possible to simply make a major decision and put it into practice, without having to write a 20-page proposal document, present it to the management meeting and wait for approval from the board.  I remember talking to George about the conifers, and saying I thought we ought to put the capital into retailing them, not growing them. He thought about it for about 30 seconds, said "OK, that makes sense, let's do it", and that was it (I admit that it helped that Peg thought it was a good idea too, but were still finding our feet expansion-wise, and a third opinion was valuable).

After that, I began to get the hang of this decision-making business, and found it got easier with practice. I decided to offer bulk discounts on dwarf conifers, to lease a new truck for deliveries, and to get a cafetière for the kitchen so I could have a decent cup of coffee without traipsing all the way to the coffee shop. No-one objected. Encouraged, I found a new sapling supplier, got someone to do a revamp on our website, and had my office painted antique off-white. Still there was no opening of the heavens, no thunderbolt of divine retribution marked "Urgent - From Group Management Services" in my inbox. Then it struck me - George and I really were our own bosses, and we really could do whatever we liked.

All in all it's a very satisfying state of affairs, and, as I said, rather more than I was expecting five years ago. I even heard from Cathy Reeve recently - she's in Ghana, doing really worthwhile work organising supplies for Medecins Sans Frontieres, and she sounds happy at last. She's home on leave next Spring, and we're going to meet for a drink. I must admit that I found her enthusiasm for making Peg's the venue slightly amusing, given the disdain-bordering-on-contempt she used to have for the place, but I take it as a good sign. I've also got a feeling that a certain high-flying Broadleys group IT manager will be inviting himself along, if the amount of interest he showed when I mentioned Cathy's email is anything to go by. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

I am of the soil. At night, when my day's toil has ended, I see it under my fingernails, and know it is good. I am connected to it.

I am in the land of my ancestors. Like the great King Llewellyn I have returned to my homeland. But the Llewellyn of old was led back into war by his brother David (David! Resonance!). I know when to stay, to leave the English to their endless over-ambition and desire to cast out what has been built and build ever grander edifices. I need no edifices;  I am of the soil .

I have a van. On each side is painted a tree and "We've got branches everywhere". When I knew it was not right for me to be where I was, Bernard Pierce was quick to seize his opportunity and ask me to bring my van to this place. Bernard Pierce is a wise man. He knows that no Englishman could be at one with this Welsh soil, as a Llewellyn can. I am of this soil.

In my van are my tools. I have tools of power - a chainsaw, a rotivator - and tools of delicate precision, the secateurs with which I prune young branches to concentrate their life force. I am of the seasons, in autumn a sweeper of leaves, in spring a lopper of branches, in summer a manicurist of lawns. In the earth I create life, nurture it, guide it to beauty. I am a bringer of life.

Susan, my wife, does all the paperwork. Bernard Pierce insisted on that.  He is a wise man; he knew I could not waste my hours on English bureaucracy. Susan is my rock.  She found this home for us, our modest cottage where we live our simple life. Our house is small but our garden is large - we eat from our own good soil. Susan is a teacher of children in the local school. We both nurture life. We are of life itself.

Susan has a computer. It is in her attic room, where she keeps the papers. I have not seen the computer, but I can feel its presence, hear the information flowing back through the wires to the English. Susan is my rock. She will not let me see the computer; she knows it would destroy my bond with the soil. Bernard Pierce made her promise. He is a wise man.

Soon it will be winter. Susan and I will draw close to our hearth, keep the darkness at bay with our lamp, burn logs from the woods in our grate. In winter I read of Llewellyn, of how he reached his accommodation with a wise Englishman (EdwARD! BernARD! Resonance!), only to be drawn into battle and defeat by David (Resonance!). I shall not make that mistake. I am Llewellyn, of this soil. I shall not return to the English or their ways.

THE END
 

Text ©  Paul Stephens 2006
Illustration © Sholto Walker 1996