‘It’s not where you take things from – it’s where you take them to.’

Jean Luc Godard

 

The thought of escape weighs heavily on my mind as the winter lock-down at work commences.

Co-workers are starting to lunch at their desks and the stench of warm soup, homemade stew and fish hangs like a pall over our open plan office.

The talk is of corrective breast surgery and menstruation among the womenfolk. I keep my head down and don’t make eye contact.

 

Friday afternoon was a mournful affair. The usual mass evacuation left the office looking like some end-of-the-world film set as people mumbled about afternoon meetings and cried off with phantom headaches.

The few of us that remained clock watched and made needless cups of tea to make the time pass faster. It didn’t

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