Broom (6)

BROOM (6)

The other, she said, as she hoola-hooped:

'The problem, dear Broom, is that we've all been duped. I can't help but thinking our raison-d'etre's sinking; we were promised a lie - that's the truth. Our professional life is a spoof.'

I was cleaning the windows with Windolene. (The desktops, already, gave off a good sheen - thanks to beeswax and elbow-grease. Such hard work: I took off my fleece.)

She continued:

'You see, I had an epiphany. We were bagging some routes, my boyfriend and me. The sun was shining, the grit was dry. As we belayed some classics I thought I might cry. I was happy enough to die.'

She stared out the window and sighed.

'And, as for the future, I don't give a toss. (I've experienced too much and suffered such loss.) I have nothing I wish for, and no expectation. But, when I'm out with my partner my only sensation is something akin to a sense of elation.

'I'm afraid I need nothing more. As a consequence, work seems like a bore.'