The big news from this part of the planet is that we have shifted office. The earlier office had seen us spend ten years there, and it was now an officially declared public health hazard that needed to be brought down in the interests of public safety and the containment of swine flu. Seriously though, the building was an old decrepit housing colony type which was one leg away from collapse and had been taken over by a builder who had promised to raze it to the ground and build up a megalithic piece of architectural wonder that promises to knock the socks off all the pieces of construction on the same road, and add more square feet to the square feet already owned by the residents, who have put their hearts in their pockets and moved out for the two years the builder promises it will take for the premises to be developed.
Taking out an entire decade’s worth of junk is a task in itself. The first day of shifting saw the resident peon cum Man Friday disappear. After much yelling of his name and looking around at usual haunts said Man Friday disappears to when work is at hand, namely the loo, the nukkad chai spot, and such like, yielded no results. And then a faint cry caught my ear, the man had been buried beneath the pile of ten years of files. We have files which have mated and multiplied in cupboards, and produced entire generations of files which have then themselves gone on to produce offspring and family trees. We have generations of files. These files can create an island nation of their own. I could just drop them into the sea off the coastline and have my own private island. Maybe I could build my bungalow on them. Anyway, the Man Friday was excavated from under the files nothing damaged permanently save his ego, and the onerous task of stripping the joint of all its furniture and its accessories. Discovered beneath the furniture which had been fitted to the wall and the floor at the outset, fallen pencils, pens and sheets of paper which one had assumed had disappeared into the great hole in the sky where such things disappear into from an office. All the junk was piled into another pile which again threatened to drown yet another vertically challenged employee who was promptly yanked out from a preciptious fate worse than death.
All the furniture and files were crammed into a small tempo, fitted in by the premise employed by the policemen employed at the Japanese tube stations, a firm kicking into the doors and cramming in as much as could fit in without the sides of the tempo bursting. All the stuff was unceremonious dumped into the new premises. Which then resulted in us having to do the obstacle course over the furniture there being no free floor space available to move within the premises, given that all the cupboards which had hitherto been tacked to the wall in the previous office were now occupying precious floor space.
We are currently shoulder to shoulder with men of labour. Carpenters. Electricians. And their ilk. The sound of drills whirring into walls is making deep inroads into my cranium. I can feel the beginnings of a migraine coming on. Arrgggghhhhh. I need chocolate and fast. And it better be dark and sinful and fattening and all those things that make it all the more forbidden and prized and to be eaten on the sly.