Feel more of year than habitual spent hiding in small cupboard in attic. Ever keen to avoid contact with celebrities, find increasing numbers of same appearing unsolicited at no. 10. New staffers much excited by arrival of Barbie’s friend, with a Ken in tow, Finn quite giddy with sighting of land owning aristo off the tellybox. Identities of feted film director and manager of marginally less feted football team require clarification for younger team members but garner reaction from culturally and sportingly enlightened.

Embark on Project Space takeover with Damson Madder. Find this is rather more than just takeover of the project space as entire building required to accommodate unimaginable quantities of large collared blouses, leopard print trousers and novelty fruit tee shirts. Lucy’s flat, staff kitchen and all stairways pressed into service. Tripping hazards abound. Injuries, miraculously, avoided.

The Basement gets a makeover. Feel this should have been fount of tales of gloom, disaster, overruns and overspends but all is delivered on time and budget. Outlook for the subterraneans decidedly sunnier.

Much of rest of Summer spent in planning and anticipation of 25th Birthday and in reflection of passing of quarter of century selling frocks and knick knacks to denizens of cathedral city.

Shoot our second fashion campaign. Carolyn organises proceedings with skill of army general. All credit for soothing bruised ego of handsome model, upstaged by elegant dog called Trevor.

In other animal news, Rob gets a kitten. Called Edward. Accessorised with backpack with window.

Silver Jubilee in September marked with raffle and large party. Fail to make moving and inspirational speech to staff as too moved to speak. Recover slightly to make speech to assembled guests but reference my dear mum, in attendance, and find myself, once more, too moved to speak. Find comfort in large glass of fizz and knowledge that next milestone is 25 years away and no further public speaking engagements on horizon.

In face of unfavourable stateside election result, keen to nurture relationships with our friends over Atlantic pond while still possible and desirable. Festive season sees roaring trade in glass decorations from Nebraska, fiendishly expensive but quite delightful chocolates from NYC, cake tins from Minneapolis and lemon squeezers in form of fish from Ivyland PA.

On matter of Christmas decorations am compelled to question the festive import of platter of charcuterie, cheese plate, extremely creepy baby, macaroni cheese and a telephone. Feel David Lynch may have been involved.

Challenges to positive seasonal trading include powercuts, multiple, in which The Hambledon depletes global stock of torches to illuminate attic (the packing show must go on) and staff iPhones pressed into service to facilitate sales in crepuscular Basement (the retail show must go on); ever vigilant parking attendants, in extravagant show of Christmas goodwill, ward off all delivery vans from making deliveries and much trundling of boxes, crates and pallets from neighbouring postcode ensues; Parcelforce delivery man dressed as Santa fails to lighten mood.

Celebrate end of year with dinner for hugely deserving team. Restaurant forced to employ random assortment of tables, chairs and crockery to accommodate burgeoning number of Hambledon staffers. Bill at end of night surpassing GDP of many medium size countries. Resolve to organise pot luck in large field for Christmas 25. Rob enthusiastic about this plan as reminiscent of raves of his youth but with more ample catering.