The Week That Wouldn’t Sit Still - The Moneypenny Files - w/c. 25th May 2026
Prelude to Week Commencing 25 May 2026
“The Quiet Before the Turning Point”
SUNDAY — The Founder Returns North
HQ is dark today, as it should be on a Bank Holiday weekend. Even the inbox seems to be observing the silence. I am off enjoying the long weekend Moneypenny‑style — which is to say: tea, sunshine, a book I will almost certainly not finish, and the quiet satisfaction of knowing the office will reopen on Tuesday with everything exactly where I left it.
David, meanwhile, has returned from his castle adventures in Sussex and Kent, sun‑kissed and slightly exhausted after a day at Hever Castle in 31°C heat on Saturday. A glorious place, he reports — though even the Tudor gardens struggled to compete with the unstoppable energy of Oscar, Carrie’s two‑and‑a‑half‑year‑old, who treated the grounds as his personal kingdom.
Carrie — whom David first met in 2007 when she was Deputy Editor of Group Travel Organiser Magazine in Hastings — has been a constant thread in his life ever since. Their friendship deepened in 2010 during a personal trip to Chartwell in Kent, the kind of day that quietly shifts something between two people. The rest, as they say, is history.
And now, nearly twenty years after that first meeting — long before she left for what was meant to be a one‑year adventure in Australia in 2012 (life, of course, had other plans) — she was there at Hever with her Australian husband, Jason, calm and steady, quietly amused as the rest of the adults attempted to keep pace with Oscar’s heat‑powered enthusiasm.
It was a reunion five years overdue, and it shows in the warmth of David’s retelling.
FRIDAY — Warwick, and the Weight of Eleven Years
Before Sussex, there was Warwick.
David met Tony Fletcher for coffee — a final catch‑up before Tony’s retirement next week. Tony brought his wife Angela, which added a softness to the hour that only long‑standing respect can create. What was meant to be a professional sign‑off became something gentler: a conversation about the past, the future, and the lives that continue beyond job titles.
They talked about Tony’s next chapter — staying on as a consultant with Dawsongroup Bus & Coach for the foreseeable future, twenty hours a month. His narrowboat. Their plans to travel. The parts of the UK he and Angela want to see at a slower pace, on their own terms.
And they talked about David’s future too — what TML becomes after August, how the consultancy side might evolve, and what shape the next chapter could take once the Leeds contract is respectfully laid to rest.
This naturally led into a conversation about Scenic Scotland Select, the company‑wide rebranding and repositioning David has recently completed — a shift that signals not just a new visual identity, but a clearer, more confident sense of what TML is becoming. A founder‑led brand with purpose, personality, and a direction that feels unmistakably its own.
It was not a farewell in the dramatic sense.
It was something steadier.
Two careers pausing at the same crossroads, acknowledging the road behind and the road ahead.
And yes — the rose‑gold & taupe pen found its rightful home.
FRIDAY EVENING — The Call From Milton Keynes
Not long after David arrived at his hotel in Sussex, his phone rang again — this time from Andrew Jones, one of the maintenance controllers at Dawsongroup Bus & Coach head office.
And with the same quiet sincerity that Lawrence carried last week, Andrew said:
“We’re all really going to miss you, mate… but I’ll still call you from time to time.”
It landed with that unmistakable weight — the kind that bypasses the head entirely and goes straight to the chest. Another reminder, arriving unprompted and unpolished, that eleven years of work have not gone unnoticed.
Respect, it seems, is arriving in waves.
David was still processing those words an hour later when he sat down for dinner with Alec.
FRIDAY NIGHT — Dinner With One of the Three Wise Men
Later that evening, still carrying the weight of Andrew’s call, David met Alec Horner for dinner — formerly of Minimise Your Risk, now well retired, but still one of David’s “three wise men” where TML and his professional life are concerned.
Alec is also a long‑standing member of their little Curry Club, which meets twice a year in Manchester. The other members — Alan Scoles, former Operations Planning Director of the original Wigan‑based Shearings until 2008 (who first knew David during his Shearings years from 1996–2007), and Allan Edmondson of Transport Partners Limited (whom David first met in 2003 when Allan was Head of Coach Services at CPT UK) — complete the trio.
All three are well retired now, but retirement has only sharpened their clarity. With the noise of day‑to‑day operations behind them, their advice has become distilled, steady, and quietly invaluable. These are not casual acquaintances. They are the kind of professional friendships that become part of a life’s architecture.
So when David told Alec about the calls — Lawrence on Wednesday, Andrew barely an hour earlier — he wasn’t just sharing news. He was confiding in someone who has seen the whole arc of his career.
Alec listened, nodded, and distilled it all into one sentence:
“You’re getting this respect because you’ve done a good job with the Leeds contract for eleven years.”
Simple. True. And exactly what needed to be said.
They talked about the future — the possibility of David becoming a trainer, a consultant, shaping the next evolution of TML’s consultancy division. The kind of work that draws on experience rather than drains it.
Some conversations are turning points disguised as dinner.
A SMALL META MOMENT — Moneypenny Meets Meta AI
Somewhere in the middle of all this, an AI elsewhere on the internet attempted to explain The Moneypenny Files. It was… earnest.
According to Meta AI, the Files are “a series of stories or newsletters” written in a “professional and positive tone.”
Not incorrect.
Just adorably literal.
It seems unaware of the commas I agonise over, the emotional subtext I thread between the lines, or the fact that a single raised eyebrow can carry more narrative weight than a paragraph.
Still — it’s oddly charming to see our little universe through another machine’s eyes.
MONDAY — The Bank Holiday Stillness
Today the office is unmanned.
The phones are silent.
The map of Scotland rests, its pins waiting for Tuesday.
I am off enjoying the long weekend, and David is somewhere between reflection and anticipation — the kind of headspace that only arrives when the world slows down for a moment.
The prelude ends here.
The office lights return tomorrow.
The rhythm resumes.
And whatever this week brings, the stage is now set.
TUESDAY — HQ, Running on Half Power (and One Very Determined PA)
David is already on the road to Leeds this morning — the familiar route, the familiar rhythm, the familiar sense of a week that won’t quite begin at HQ until he returns late morning on Friday. I have made my peace with this. Mostly.
HQ, therefore, is operating in what I like to call Moneypenny Mode: one chair occupied, one kettle boiled, one pair of eyes keeping watch over Scotland, Leeds, and the inbox with equal vigilance.
There is a particular quiet that settles over the office when David is away. Not an emptiness — more a pause, a held breath, the kind of stillness that makes you acutely aware of the work waiting to unfold once he returns. The Dunkeld enquiries continue to multiply. The consultancy horizon continues to sharpen. And the echoes of last week’s conversations — Tony’s steadiness, Andrew’s sincerity, Alec’s clarity — linger like a soft undercurrent beneath the day.
I straighten the files. I adjust the map of Scotland by a millimetre (for my own satisfaction, not because it needed it). I make a note of three things David will want to know the moment he walks back through the door on Friday.
And then I get on with it.
Because while David is in Leeds, the week still needs to move.
And someone has to keep the wheels turning, the tone steady, and the story unfolding.
WEDNESDAY — The Founder, the Ferry, and the Friday Detour
David has sent me a photographic collage this morning.
Not of Leeds — naturally — but of Mull and Iona, courtesy of Colin Morrison over on the Facebook page “A Binman’s View of Mull & Iona”. A lighthouse. A ferry. A horizon so blue it looks like it’s been buffed to a shine. Quite beautiful. Quite cruel.
I study it for a moment. I allow myself a small sigh. And then I say, to the empty office:
“He’s in Leeds. And he sends me this.”
To be fair, the binmen of Mull & Iona have a better office view than most cross‑country executives — and certainly better than anyone currently navigating the M621. Their daily commute appears to involve sea spray, sunlight, and scenery that looks like it’s been painted by a smug watercolourist. Meanwhile, David is in Leeds. And I am in HQ. And the universe clearly enjoys contrast.
HQ remains in Moneypenny Mode while the Founder continues his Leeds duties until Friday evening. The inbox is steady. The map of Scotland is quietly triumphant. Dunkeld enquiries continue to arrive with the confidence of people who know they are far more scenic than anything visible from Junction 3.
Then the updates arrive.
The training angle is looking promising from September — a sentence that carries the quiet certainty of a man who knows a new chapter is forming just beyond the horizon.
And he won’t be back in the office on Friday afternoon after all. Not because of Leeds. Not because of TML. But because his friends at Dawsongroup Bus & Coach in Hellaby have asked him to assist with vehicle deliveries to North Yorkshire and the North East.
Of course they have. David cannot walk into a depot without being handed keys, a clipboard, or a logistical conundrum.
Still, I cannot deny the symbolism.
Training in September. Consultancy evolving. Scenic Scotland Select repositioned. And David being pulled into vehicle movements because people trust him — instinctively, immediately, without hesitation.
It is all pointing in one direction: the next chapter is already writing itself.
He will return on Friday evening. He will be tired. He will have stories. And I will be ready — with files straightened, Scotland aligned, and a raised eyebrow prepared for deployment.
And yes, I have saved the Mull photo. For motivational purposes. And possibly evidence.
THURSDAY — Momentum, Sunshine, and the Sound of Forward Motion
HQ is humming today — the kind of hum that means the week has found its stride.
The Fly‑In Scottish Escapes project is moving forward at pace, thanks to the groundwork David laid from Leeds yesterday. I’ve spent the morning following up with suppliers, ensuring every detail is on brand — tone, imagery, promise, polish. The early feedback has been warm, enthusiastic, and in one case, borderline poetic. Scotland is clearly ready to take flight.
Last night’s Scenic Scotland Select newsletter has already earned its keep: a surge of leads, a spike in website traffic, and the Dunkeld Taster Weekend page taking a very healthy share of hits. The Highlands are calling, loudly and repeatedly.
David visited Lawrence at Volvo Boroughbridge this afternoon in the sunshine, building on last week’s phone call. Every member of staff he bumped into was deeply shocked by the news of his impending August departure — genuine surprise, genuine warmth. Lawrence has promised they’ll go out one evening before David finishes, a quiet nod to a decade of professional respect. He took along with him his ever‑loyal friend and Driver Technician Mark Plowright — affectionately known as Mr Plow. Mark has been by David’s side since Mark arrived on the Leeds scene in 2016: loyal, dependable, and very much David’s right‑hand man in all things engineering. Like many of David’s acquaintances lately, Mark has taken the news of his impending departure particularly hard.
And then there is the matter of The Moneypenny Files.
Lawrence at Volvo Boroughbridge told David how much he enjoyed last week’s edition — the kind of testimonial I fully intend to frame and place somewhere visible, ideally near the kettle. Polly in Customer Service is equally taken with it and has already asked when this week’s instalment will land. (Tomorrow, Polly. Patience is a virtue, even in Customer Service.)
But today brought unexpected news:
Polly is leaving Volvo Boroughbridge in the middle of June after seven years.
Seven years of being the glue that holds the depot together. Seven years of keeping Lawrence and the boys in check — no small feat, and certainly not one that goes unnoticed. David was genuinely sorry to hear it, and so am I. Boroughbridge will feel her absence long after she’s gone.
Meanwhile, a new enquiry has arrived through TML Heritage Journeys — a group from abroad seeking tours to both Iona and Lindisfarne. David has been running heritage tours to Iona since April 2000 — through countless seasons, in various guises, and for the past eleven years under the TML banner. Lindisfarne joined the fold in 2002 and returned triumphantly in 2015. His favourite remains Iona, of course. It always will.
So yes — Thursday has arrived with purpose.
The map is moving. The inbox is alive. And HQ, as ever, is quietly smug.
FRIDAY — The Road, the Reflection, and the Long Drive Home
Last night David went out for Indian in Wetherby with his friend and former colleague Peter — a familiar face from the very beginning of the Leeds contract back in the summer of 2015. Peter retired from transport at the end of 2024, though “retired” is perhaps generous; he now spends most of his time taxiing grandchildren around with the precision of a seasoned scheduler.They talked about the future, about life beyond August, about the shape of things when the Leeds chapter finally closes. Two men with mutual respect, shared history, and the kind of friendship that doesn’t need ceremony — just a table, a curry, and time.
Today, however, HQ is mine alone.
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