Summer?

I think I spoke too soon about the summer. I'm sitting here at my desk in Prefab Towers (note to manager: it's my lunchtime), the wind is howling through the air conditioning vents and whistling round the building. This building actually moans in the wind, 'I want a holiday! I want to get away from the three lane gyratory system that makes me dizzy all the time!, Let me free from my footings!'.

The noises are quite spooky, and all that is needed to convert the whole working day experience into a Gothic horror movie would be the squadron of bats I saw in India that had the wing span of light aircraft. During the day they could hang upside down from the air conditioning vents. In quiet moments, employees could get up and tickle their tummies as a stress busting exercise. We could throw in a couple of rabid dogs slathering at the bottom of the stairwells and lifts that go up and down without picking up any passengers (hang on a minute, I think we've got that effect already).

My slightly grubby-from-pollution net curtains are straining at the rail, billowing out as if allowing access to unseen entities. Time seems to have stood still (sorry, that's just how it feels at the new photocopying/printing machine) and the electrical equipment in the office is acting strangely (no change there either, come to think of it).

This is of course all an effort to take my mind off the yearning I am currently experiencing for a large, iced currant bun. I've had a couple of boiled sweets, but they're just not hitting the spot. I've also eaten all my favourite orangey ones, and am feeling depressed at the thought of succombing, in desperation, to pineapple. If you eat too many boiled sweets, your teeth get a bit furry. You can spend a bit of time deciding whether to suck or crunch (no comments please, I know what you're like now). Sucking gives longer lasting pleasure, the crunch gives a lovely burst of flavour, but runs the risk of follow up appointments with the 'Butcher of Teddington', sorry, I mean my dentist.

Maybe that's the where the real terror lies.