Monday 20 February 2012

The Point of 0.6 (5)

The Ostrich Song



Peek-a-Boo, I can't see you,
Everything must be grand.
Boo-ka-Pee, they can't see me,
As long as I've got me head in the sand.

(From 'The Ostrich Song', Flanders and Swann; Photo: Mike Berry)

Friday 17 February 2012

The Point of 0.6 (4)


'A bit of a slab' she said with a sneer.  She was now walking the office walls, trying to smear.  She was sporting some rock shoes that were considered quite sticky.

'That girl is a problem, I find her quite tricky. I just have this feeling she's taking the Mick.  For God's sake, I'm sorry, but why won't my right foot stick?'

'I'm sorry too,' he said, with a smile (that was fake). 'What do you mean by a 'slab'? Are we talking that cake? That cake on your desk looks quite good, I must say. For myself, I'm convinced that a cake a day keeps the doctor away. Do please give me first option before chucking it away.'

'Slabs rarely have features or face holds,' somewhat enigmatically, as she gripped the dado rail desperately, perhaps over-dramatically. 'Look,' she said, 'I'm trying to locate my centre of gravity. If I keep my weight too close to the wall, I will certainly fall. The reason: I risk not using my feet at all. Perhaps my shoes are too large when then should really feel too small?'

'Once again, your words elude me,' he conceded.

She chalked her hands and stared at the cake. But her mind was elsewhere; on the wall before her, and the man who could lead it. The one who did one-finger pull-ups and ate chilies un-deseeded.  The one for whom she had started to bake. It had to be said, he made her feel great.

'So, I'm waiting.  What do you mean by saying that that girl was a slab?'

'For fear of repetition, I refer you to the dictionary; 'slab' means viscous, thick and sticky.'

'And your point is?'

'There are 'customers' like her who come across easy, 'cos they say what you want to hear even though they are lazy. Even so, if you place a foot wrong with them, you will stumble, and badly. You will tumble, scraping your skin as you go,' she said somewhat sadly. 'Your shoes may be sticky, but if the customer is thick and tricky, it really doesn't matter. At some point you'll slip and end up badly bruised. It leaves me feeling quite low,' she added, 'and far from amused.'


Wednesday 8 February 2012

The Point of 0.6 (3)

Slacking


'The problem is, they exhaust your good will,' balancing one-legged on the office windowsill.

'The consequence? The temptation is to start slacking when one's hard slog is ignored yet the whip is apparently still cracking'.  She stuck out her right leg and pointed the toe.  Then she raised her left arm above her head. 'Surely, my dear colleagues, this is the reality we all inhabit,' she said.

From the corner: 'and what's happened to your Protestant work ethic?' he sniped. He was now suffering from frequent headaches and the need for an occasional gripe.

'Alas my father was an atheist; I never made it to the font. No christening gown for me. No ceremony nor pomp. What interests me is that while orthodox religion turns me queazy, makes me feel slightly sick, I generally consider myself, my views, quite catholic.' She bent her head momentarily to admire her new shoes. Pearl-pink, snug-fitting and chamois-soled. Her next purchase, she'd promised herself, would be a tutu.

'I'm sorry, I digress. I was dreaming of my new dress. Where was I?' She twisted her head close to 180 degrees, positioned her arms at right angles to her torso and bent her knees. Her next project was to turn on one foot without losing her poise.

'You were advocating slacking,' he interjected. 'Or were you talking about vomitting?'

'No, actually, I was saying I often feel quite catholic. But, yes, that's precisely why, historically, I've often found myself retching. It's akin, I'm sure, to the ritual of confession. Rid yourself, cleanse yourself of all you despise and loath; all you hate, can't cope with and regret. A form of purification, I suspect.  Well, I'm guessing.'

'And the slacking?'

'Just learn to walk the line.'

'What?'

'I've always been in praise of idleness.'

'That's fine, but I have no idea what you mean.'

'OK, here goes: however hard you try they'll always manage to find you lacking. In the face of all this modern work-place crap my suggestion is why not try slacking?'

'Do nothing?'

'No. Not at all.  Rather, decide what's important and risk putting your neck on the line. My advice: learn to balance on a slack wire; in the business, it's called a slack-line.'