An old working acquaintance of the OH’s was famously dificult to work with but was held in a sort of affectionate dread in the theatre. Her husband was something fancy in diplomacy and was called away on business one evening when she was giving a dinner party to which he had invited a visiting colleaugue whom she didn’t know. This visitor had a heart attack and died in the middle of dinner. The OH said to her “But what did you do?” To which she replied, “Well, darling, I called Harrods.” They sent a team from the undertaking dept who picked up the body and did all the paperwork and later planned the funeral. That’s what one calls service.

And today is the half day I promised her at Harrods. Pray for me.