Ode to my Colleagues during a Pandemic

The big, old building where I work is grand on the outside and a mix of grand and not-so-grand inside.

Panelled rooms, corniced ceilings, mirrored doors, a grand staircase and bevelled glass windows adorn the public areas.

At the back of the building there are staircases with uneven tread winding between myriad corridors. There are lots of doors to rooms that were once bedrooms or drawing rooms for grand people. Then there is a mish-mash of smaller rooms and cupboards.

Through the hall window I can see rain dripping off a broken gutter and splattering onto a slate roof beneath.

I love working in a building like this. It has soul. There aren’t enough plugs, there is no air conditioning and it can be cruelly cold in the winter. But there are views, and deep windows with wide sills you can sit on when no one is about.

Usually it is full of people clattering away on their keyboards, staring intently at screens or standing in the kitchen chatting while sipping tea and taking the lid off the biscuit tin to see if anything is worth plundering.

Sometimes I get to play the grand piano in the function hall, imagining an adoring audience and making flamboyant hand gestures as I hit the keys. Sometimes I play table tennis with friends there, laughing and scrabbling around for the pesky little balls that get trapped under the large radiators or roll into the corridor by the kitchen. Sometimes June opens the kitchen door and passes some refreshments out with a smile and friendly word.

It’s a building to love, full of people to love. It has its cranky moments, but so do those of us who inhabit it.

I miss the old place, working from home really isn’t the same.

I had to go in this week. I was looking forward to it. Going in a side entrance because the big front doors were locked, I went up the dark stairwell to the office on the top floor. The cleaner was pleased to see me. We had a chat from opposite ends of the corridor before she took her vacuum cleaner back down the stairs to clean another, unused room.

Every so often moving around the building, I would hear footsteps down the hall, part of a muffled conversation behind a door. Out of the window I could see down to the sunken lawn where an energetic man was throwing a ball for a lethargic dog.

Someone popped in to collect a computer, lots of smiles and hellos from the doorway, and then the floor went quiet again. Later, another cleaner put his head round the door, swabbed the handles and moved on.

It’s a place to reflect, with time to reflect.

I am a voice behind a door, I am the footsteps down the hall.

I am the person pleased to see you - I am the person pleased to be here.

Please be here with me again soon.