Friday 3 July 2009

 

And The Horse You Came In On.

He is a skinny guy. Big glasses. A little twitchy. Some of the girls find him a little creepy. He strikes me as being a little edgy, nervous. Today is his 50th birthday. Though he isn’t at work – he is at the dentist, so figured he might as well take rest of day off – given we stop early on Fridays. So they celebrated yesterday. Coming into swipe at the back door, there was a picture of him, sitting on a kid’s rocking horse – the kind you put money in, and it rocks and plays music for five minutes. Up the stair well and into the office, there are more photographs – from holidays and parties, the ghosts of excesses past come back to haunt him for the occasion. Pictures in dresses, in wigs, accompanied by nuns and fairies and prisoners. People nudge him and wink, yeah, it was a fancy dress party. Yeah, my wife gave them to a colleague. He laughs it all off admirably, adapting to his role as centre of attention. Lunch time he produces a stack of cakes from the bakers round the corner, lines the dozen boxes up on top of a line of cabinets, goes round and tells everyone they are there. For the next half hour everyone is laughing about sticky fingers, and about the cream they’ve got all over their faces. Morning after, the only sign is the 4 spots of blue tack on the pillars the length of the floor, and that picture of him on the horse, still on the back door at 7.30am this morning.

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