Wednesday: Back in office - on crutches - after brush with spinal cord injury in brawl with GAG chair, David. 'Forgive and forget' is the motto of day - and of the welcome back party he hosts.
Few changes in the interim. Real champagne to drink, not fermented fish water. And Frank, blackmailing head of finance, has gone - replaced by Diana, large American with Pauline Prescott hairdo. Presents me with monthly profit-and-loss sheet for marketing department - ie me - as I struggle towards my desk. Trying to hold on to it and crutches causes me to topple over onto the wall of goldfish tanks that divides my cubicle from that of head of policy, Clare. End up at her feet and in some pain. Not helped by her berating me for trauma I've caused fish. Funny how quickly things feel familiar.
Thursday: Penny-a-tub donation on fish food promotion in aid of GAG is going well, even after Keira Knightley's late withdrawal as 'face of campaign'. Jan Leeming seems to have equal appeal for our core supporters, who are writing to her c/o the GAG offices to reminisce about her 1980s heyday reading the news on the BBC.
Friday: Send creepy but belated letter of congratulations to Margaret Beckett on appointment as new Foreign Secretary. Remind her of past support for GAG while minister of fisheries.
Make polite but applauding reference to recent reports of her fussiness about non-fish canapes served at official functions. Suggest a power lunch at David's favourite vegan restaurant to discuss support for GAG's international goldfish welfare campaign.
Now convalescence is over, I move out of David's pad to escape my ex - Anka, now Mrs David and pregnant with my child - and back to my grotty flat with Vorderman, newly crowned Countdown Addict of Year and still away celebrating at Rhyl AGM of similarly afflicted saddos.
Stagger into bedroom to find linen freshly laundered, giant inflatable goldfish tucked neatly under covers and a small red heart on pillow with no message on back.