In the summer, the sun dips over the horizon and the River Thames shimmers by like a glistening ribbon. On long winter's nights, the fire crackles happily in the grate and you settle back into a comfortable chair with all the satisfaction a glass of something hearty can bring.
So it was weird to be in there on a Wednesday lunchtime. With work people.
What are you supposed to talk about on a team lunch? Chatting about work seemed to steer the clumsy conversation towards a meeting. That's not ideal is it? We may as well have a meeting! But taking it too far outside the confines of work swung the pendulum into a whole world of uncomfortable possibilities.
It wasn't long before we were talking GM crops. I sat quietly expecting it to turn into an anti-capitalist rant. The rant chugged in, predictably on time. GM crop corporations, it seems, sell farmers their super-engineered seeds but charge them for their use, including any further produce generated from those seeds. That means your whole crop is a sort of product, rented out from a corporate megalith which rakes in profit for your hard work and will sue your wellies off if you alter the deal. Despite the initial R&D costs, somebody, somewhere, I thought, is making a fortune.
There was an uncomfortable silence. I expected most people around the table (colleagues thrown together in the pursuit of international profits for people that none of us have ever met) were all thinking the same thing.
"Where did you get that?" asked someone. I was fascinated; I've never seen one before. I'm not even sure how you end up with one - cash machines in the UK (ATMs) only ever produce 10s and 20s. It was a thing of great beauty and exquisite rarity - a real UK fifty pound note, worth fifty actual pounds. I asked if I could take a photo of it for posterity and held it aloft like a rare flower. Nathan found it all rather amusing. He wouldn't tell us where he got it though.
It's funny how money works isn't it?
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