remote cards

I’m in the centre of Glasgow for a day course, an unfamiliar building, unfamiliar people. We’ve stopped the session for lunch, had a bite to eat, and all individually filtered outside to enjoy the sunshine. On my way out I stop at the gents, in front of which there is one of a number of open “public” areas. Here there are two sofas and a table. The guy sits with his back to the wall. He is young, maybe 18 or 20, doing his best to look smart and professional. She is a few years older, blonde and more casual. She wears a vest top appropriate to the weather, dipping neckline showing off ample and bright pink cleavage – it looks tender and sunburnt. There is something about the little of the conversation I hear, of the body language that says this is an interview. Though having it in such an open space seems a little odd to me. As I head down the stairs it sounds like they are wrapping up. A minute later, as I stand outside scanning the shops in this street decide where I’m going to go in the fifteen minutes I have available to me, he comes outside. He looks at me, recognising me from a moment ago, and he grins, he pumps the air with his fist. Shouts - Got it! Before happily wandering down the street, now pushing the buttons of the phone that was clamped in his fist, keen to share the good news.

Labels: course, glasgow, interview, lunch, phone, sun burnt

12 noon, I open my drawer expecting to find various packets of food I can chuck together for lunch. Instead I find rice, rice, and nothing but rice. Oh. Miscalculation. I know I have stuff to go with rice at home, but in terms of having them here, I fail. So it goes. That leaves the canteen, which will mobbed going at this time, but needs must. As I exit the building I can see a colleague sauntering over, hands in his pocket, wearing just a shirt in the unusually warm day, and wearing my jacket I think he has made a smart move. I walk fairly fast, catching up with him a little at a time, till he joins the end of the queue on the front door step of the canteen and I step up beside him.

P was in our department last year, but has moved on this year. He is from one of our English offices, so is only up here periodically. It’s good to catch up. He had to borrow money for his lunch, so is keen I stand close by as he gets the ham and chip roll and tea in a polystyrene cup, like he always gets, in case he doesn’t have enough. But he does, and I get my food. The sign says “chicken kiev, chips and vegetables”, so I ask, suspecting, what the vegetables are, to be told that they are peas. I don’t like peas, actual mixed veg would have been fine, but not peas. We do have beans as well, she offers, I take her up on that option.

We wander back, stop at the middle of the grass section, the clearing, the cobbled bit after the bridge over the pond. We sit on a bench, and enjoy the sunshine and we chatter. He knows most of the people that wander by, exchanges comments with most of them. We get to discussing when the clocks change, so when the next person approaches he blurts “hey, when do the clocks change,” the man looks startled, and we can watch him fumbling for an answer. Our group conclusion is end of the month. We finish our lunch, and return to our offices, looking forward to the clocks changing, because then, then it will be summer, for real, or something.

Labels: change, clocks, lunch, pond, sun