Lost
Angry! A word that does not quite do justice to my feelings on hearing the news of the death of Lieutenant Colonel Rupert Thorneloe - Commanding Officer of the 1st Battalion of the Welsh Guards - this week in Afghanistan. Rupert was the son of Veronica Thorneloe, one of our amazing Head Guides. Described as a natural leader and with a young family, he was known to many here. The shock was resonant around the Palace yesterday as our staff digested the news in their own ways, all the while professionally greeting guests with a smile.
A man of my age, with a similar aged family, he had already done far more, given far more, risked far more than I know I ever will. He had the talent and natural leadership skills to succeed in any endeavour. If only such traits could have preserved him to give the world a full life's worth of positive contribution. Instead they gave him a courage which took him to the wrong place at the wrong time. He was clearly a giant and I can only glimpse the loss that Veronica and her husband must be feeling - but that glimpse is all I can take right now.
Moving reluctantly on, it seems to be a week of injuries with Trevor (head of the Water business) slicing off the top of his finger with a mandolin, Hannah (marketing) slamming her fingers in her car door and Anita (head of finance) being knocked of her bike and hospitalised. Trevor of course broke the news of his injury on Facebook and it took me a few minutes of puzzling before remembering what a mandolin even was (not a musical instrument or a small orange, it turns out...you can imagine my initial mental contortions)
Elsewhere on the Estate, our water business broke a sales record for June, shipping out 20,000 cases of mineral water. The forecast hot summer clearly does assist that business.
Roger File (our property director), Paul Orsi (head of Rural Enterprise) and I appear to have committed ourselves to enter yet another triathlon in September and in a moment of cataclysmic stupidity which i will live to regret (I hope) I appear to have signed up for a winter torture-fest known as the Helly Hensen challenge. Doing all these accounts has utterly addled my brain, clearly. Still, when I made that last commitment, I think everyone around was a little the worse for wear so, as long as I don't own up to anyone, I think I should get away with it.
At least the prevailing temperature for the Helly Hensen cannot be as hot as the last few days. As a pale fat white man, I do not exactly flourish in these temperatures so I support John's clarion call (see his blog) for air conditioning in this office.
Hopefully, we'll keep our cools for the Trustees' Meeting on Monday, always a challenging and enjoyable day. The Duke, as a stickler for tradition, arranges the same lunch every year - actually a very delicious lunch hopefully finished with fresh Blenheim Palace fruit.
His fondness for tradition hails from his days as a serving soldier, the memory of which will be playing on his mind as he reflects with sadness on the courageous and lost life of our Lieutenant Colonel Rupert Thorneloe.
RIP
Post a comment
A man of my age, with a similar aged family, he had already done far more, given far more, risked far more than I know I ever will. He had the talent and natural leadership skills to succeed in any endeavour. If only such traits could have preserved him to give the world a full life's worth of positive contribution. Instead they gave him a courage which took him to the wrong place at the wrong time. He was clearly a giant and I can only glimpse the loss that Veronica and her husband must be feeling - but that glimpse is all I can take right now.
Moving reluctantly on, it seems to be a week of injuries with Trevor (head of the Water business) slicing off the top of his finger with a mandolin, Hannah (marketing) slamming her fingers in her car door and Anita (head of finance) being knocked of her bike and hospitalised. Trevor of course broke the news of his injury on Facebook and it took me a few minutes of puzzling before remembering what a mandolin even was (not a musical instrument or a small orange, it turns out...you can imagine my initial mental contortions)
Elsewhere on the Estate, our water business broke a sales record for June, shipping out 20,000 cases of mineral water. The forecast hot summer clearly does assist that business.
Roger File (our property director), Paul Orsi (head of Rural Enterprise) and I appear to have committed ourselves to enter yet another triathlon in September and in a moment of cataclysmic stupidity which i will live to regret (I hope) I appear to have signed up for a winter torture-fest known as the Helly Hensen challenge. Doing all these accounts has utterly addled my brain, clearly. Still, when I made that last commitment, I think everyone around was a little the worse for wear so, as long as I don't own up to anyone, I think I should get away with it.
At least the prevailing temperature for the Helly Hensen cannot be as hot as the last few days. As a pale fat white man, I do not exactly flourish in these temperatures so I support John's clarion call (see his blog) for air conditioning in this office.
Hopefully, we'll keep our cools for the Trustees' Meeting on Monday, always a challenging and enjoyable day. The Duke, as a stickler for tradition, arranges the same lunch every year - actually a very delicious lunch hopefully finished with fresh Blenheim Palace fruit.
His fondness for tradition hails from his days as a serving soldier, the memory of which will be playing on his mind as he reflects with sadness on the courageous and lost life of our Lieutenant Colonel Rupert Thorneloe.
RIP
Post a comment
posted by Dominic Hare at
Friday, July 03, 2009
0 Comments
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home