The CV

doing something naughty, but realising that he’s struggling not to laugh. Such was the demeanour of Mr Jones, the chief accountant, and I suppose I must have picked up on this. The nervous feeling in my stomach subsided and I felt a bit more relaxed.
    He said to me, ‘Mr Sugar, I’ve had a complaint from the plant.’
    Blow me down, I did it again. In the corner of his room was a large rubber plant. I pointed to it and said, ‘Haven’t you been watering it, sir?’
    He was not amused and launched into a tirade. ‘To get on in this firm, you have to stop being a joker. This is a serious business. You’ve upset one of the people down in the plant. You’ve got to understand that these people are different from Londoners. They take things very seriously down there and you’ve insulted the gentleman and his wife.’
    ‘I’m very sorry,’ I answered. ‘What would you like me to do? All I can do is apologise. I’ll write him a note; I’ll do anything you want me to do.’
    ‘Well, if you write him a note, we’ll call the matter closed. But I don’t want to hear any more complaints about you.’
    The other guys in the office were eager to know what had happened. When I told them about the plant joke, they all put their heads in their hands. ‘You didn’t! You didn’t say that, did you? You’re a bloody nutter!’
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1963 – 1967: Early career
    Finally, I popped the question. It wasn’t really a blunt ‘Will you marry me?’ It was more of a discussion between us along the lines of ‘I suppose we should get married then.’ Both of us were completely committed to each other and I guess getting married and spending the rest of our lives together was something we both felt was inevitable.
    We were both quite shy at the time and there was a kind of embarrassment and difficulty between us in getting it out in the open. There was certainly no going down on one knee, with a rose, in a restaurant. In fact we were going over the Stratford flyover in the minivan at the time – can you imagine? Now you must really be asking what the hell she saw in me.
    I don’t recall Ann’s response being one of great enthusiasm. I think she said, ‘Well, I suppose so.’ Maybe my character was already starting to rub off on her!
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1963 – 1967: Early career
    One Friday night, I came home and I said to the family, ‘I’m going to start working for myself. I told Henson today that I’m leaving.’
    Henson wasn’t actually upset. He said, ‘Fair enough, if you want to go, it’s up to you. What are you going to do?’
    I said, ‘I might work for myself.’
    ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘But let me tell you, you haven’t got very good contacts.’ Always full of encouragement.
    My father looked at me as if I were mad. ‘What do you mean, you’re going to work for yourself? Who is going to pay you on Friday?’
    That was an expression I’ll never forget, and it really sums up his whole outlook on work and life: ‘Who is going to pay you on Friday?’
    I told him that I was going to pay myself on Friday.
    Fortunately, Daphne, Shirley and the two Harolds were there at the time. Being of a different generation from my mum and dad, they were smiling enthusiastically, really encouraging me. I tried to reassure my dad that the profitability of my sidelines proved I had nothing to lose by going it alone – and I think it sunk in.
    ‘So what are you going to do?’
    ‘Well, I’m going to get down to the Post Office and take out a hundred pounds. I’ve seen a second-hand minivan in the garage over the road for fifty quid. I’ve already made enquiries and found out that it’s eight pounds for third party, fire and theft insurance. And with the rest of the money, I’m going to buy a bit of gear to sell and get on my way.’
    Shirley’s Harold pointed out to me that I needed to get a National Insurance card and buy a National Insurance stamp once a week. That was another item on my list of chores.
    The following day, I sprang into action. I withdrew £100 from my Post Office account, bought the van and took out the insurance.
    And then, a really nice thought from Shirley. I received a telegram on Monday, which was unusual. Normally people sent them if they werecongratulating someone on a wedding or needed to relay important news, such as a death. Shirley’s telegram said, ‘GOOD LUCK ALAN IN YOUR NEW BUSINESS.’ It’s a pity I didn’t keep it.
    I set off in the minivan to Percy