I have, finally, sorted through the last paperwork from the flats I've left, put it into neat folders and files, copied computer files to a CD, and put the whole lot, with my forms removing me from the bank signatories and Companies House records as director and secretary, in a box to deliver this evening to someone there to take it over, so I am completely finished.

Rather naughtily, I left in the note I printed out and never distributed telling the rogue director roughly what I thought of his behaviour. I did not include the version, still unwritten, which might have been channelling 'Spaw. That remains until I have, possibly, visited Companies House some time when I go to Wales to my niece's, to find out if they have something from him on file about me.

I can't celebrate properly, though. My weight plateau is turning upwards for no apparent reason. So no icecream, no chocolate, no cake.

And then, when I have got rid of the box, I have a new committee meeting this evening, at the new place. Glutton for punishment, me.

Penny