Boyish abandon

Ordinarily, Amos would have been somewhat ashamed of his lunch, which was left-over baked potatoes with baked beans. The brave remains of last night’s meal had safe carriage to his workplace in a circular Tupperware container which now sat on his desk, steaming with heat from the office microwave (with the filthy turntable).

Today however, Amos’ boss was away from work and so he tucked-in with boyish abandon, free from the disapproving looks of colleagues.

He’d brought steamed pudding for afters.

Published in: on May 24, 2012 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  
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Chez Bank

Amos liked to frequent this part of the City during his lunch hour. It was called “the Bank” and all the smart looking men and women busied through this place, many of them holding slim, attractive executive valises. As he stood at the Tube exit, Amos gingerly wiggled his toes in his stylish business slip-ons: they were mock Italian, in soft black leatherette. Nobody could tell him apart from the young, slick intelligenci who filed past, as long as he kept his back pressed to the station wall to hide the unfortunate stain on the tails of his dinner jacket.

His secret hope was that the rain would hold off and he wouldn’t have to move position.

Published in: on October 28, 2011 at 6:18 am  Leave a Comment  
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Health kick

Amos’ new health drive wasn’t faring so well. Surrounded at his desk by plastic pots and jugs, he felt more like a demonstrator at a kitchen showroom than an information worker in a post-modern office. To his left, a two litre BPA-free plastic jug of still spring water; to his right, an air-tight Tupperware container holding mixed seeds and nuts. In the middle, his snivelling nose which he could scarce control from dripping. This health kick made him sick! But he knew it was all worthwhile – this was his body responding to the detox. And so it was that he took another small handful of seeds and shovelled them into his mouth, complete with an identically shaped piece of gravel from their ‘organic’ country of origin, chewing upon which broke off the top of his molar.

Published in: on May 10, 2011 at 7:29 am  Leave a Comment  
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Bankrupt memories

“Called yourself an ‘innovator’ did you? You nasty piece of work, how dare you disgrace the aisles of Sainsbury’s with your failed engineering business!”

And with that, Amos began hurling tins of baked beans at the retired director of the failed engineering works.

It had been 14 years, but people around here had long memories. Sydney really just wanted to buy something for tea and walk quietly home from the supermarket with his dog, Squibbs. Instead he had to nurse a bruised lump on his forehead, as he carried his shopping bag containing breaded fish in a box through the rain-swept streets of Tooting.

Those baked beans really hurt.

Published in: on May 6, 2010 at 2:42 am  Leave a Comment  
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Lime green

Samantha sat at her window seat, sipping her cup of pungent Jarrah, adjacent to that unknown minion, was her name Bev? Tess? She couldn’t remember, it hardly mattered. This tea was sooo nice, she told herself.

She felt so comfortable today in her Cartier Keyhole suit, it had been so expensive in Paris but worth every Euro, and especially as it showed off her mock-antique décolletage so nicely. And the lime-green cork wedges were just sooo a la mode in Paris – surely these Sydney people would get the point soon, and she would get a promotion.

Samantha tried hard to block out that irritating humming coming from the opposite cubicle – it was that annoying Bess again – what was she humming? Oh good grief, was it Lionel Richie? How passé. She was grateful when her mobile phone began to vibrate on her desk, covering the irritating dirge of the serf girl with a clever rendition of “Take On Me.”

“Amos! Doll! …”, she began with exaggerated delight as she answered her diminutive mobile handset…

Published in: on September 17, 2008 at 8:03 am  Comments (3)  
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