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.'

Broom (4)

BROOM (4)

'Dr Broom,' said the other, 'let me give some advice. The one thing we ask is, you're reasonable: nice. And by reasonable (nice) what we all have in mind is: you're compliant subservient yielding. Just, kind.'

I selected the speed on my Miele vacuum, plugged in the machine, began hoovering the room.

'Take me,' she continued above all the noise. (And, I have to admit that the woman had poise as the hoola-hoop span round her waist and her hips. So I switched off the Miele and considered her tips.)

'Take me, Dr Broom, I have but one desire; to not come to work, but stay home by the fire. After all, I have lectures I need to prepare and this open-plan office is driving me spare. Now, please, Dr Broom, pray don't get me wrong but the journey to work is both tiring and long and I've yet to appreciate what I can gain from colleagues who gossip and moan and complain. . . '

I noticed the hoola-hoop seemed to be slowing but, a quick change of gear, and she soon had it going - again.

'Yes. I've yet to appreciate what I can gain when the talk in the office is always the same.'

About to switch the Miele back on when - blurry-eyed sad - she gave out a groan.

'Dr Broom,' she beseeched, 'you must realise that we've lost all we worked for; we coveted and prized. We worked hard to avoid a professional life of ambition, achievement, convention and strife. Toiled long to escape the commercial rat-race. And, now, I discover I'm stuck in a place that requires I subscribe and conform. (All I want is escape from the norm.)

'So, to cut to the chase, I'm not cut out for working a full working week. I would rather be slacking.'

Hoola

HOOLA