The Office

Posted on August 1, 2014

Never worked outside teaching before – well except slave labour jobs as a student and to be honest it’s good.

I spent the morning in the office and the afternoon leafleting – I felt a bit like Loyd Grossman before he made it big time as a rival to Chicken Tonight, looking through the letterbox.

The doors fascinated me – maybe it’s a sign that I’ve been too long indolent but they did. Saw some beautiful Art Deco panelled doors with stained glass lights in 1930s houses amongst the uPVC monstrosities of so called home improvement. The letterbox ¬†shapes varied too – vertical ones topped by a knocker or more commonly in suburban Yarmouth a tin box attached to a wall with some faux historic lettering on. Why do this? Why have a letterbox detached from the house?

More disconcerting were the cold call warnings – certified by Norfolk Police no less – ¬† “I do not accept cold calls, turn around now.” Charm personified when compared with posters saying No Cold Callers, No Junk Mail and No Jehovah’s Witnesses. Is this the murky world I’m entering – intolerance and bungalow bigotry? Wevs.

I’ve a job to do and some narrow minded people who won’t allow letterbox access to the home will not deter me.

Got so wrapped up in the novelty of being occupied, I almost missed lunch and to keep me grounded had left over gluten free pizza from last night. As I opened the fridge door, marvelling at its aperture, I half expected a sign saying “No coeliacs, no ex teachers rambling on, turn around now.”

Fortunately it didn’t and I wolfed the pizza down ruminating about what sort of gate openings I’d find tomorrow on my travels in my VW up! (their grammatical choice – those people in Wolfsburg, not mine).

Roll on Sunday 6 am I say. I could get used to this working malarkey again.

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