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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Sun

The sun comes to those that wait. The sun has come to Canary Wharf.

And so Bev, armed with a £2 M&S meal deal (sandwich, crisps and a beverage) joins the hundreds of other brave souls to eat her lunch in one of the only green spaces in the Wharf.

The sharp wind doesn’t dampen spirits as office workers compete for bench space, huddle around chlorinated pools and sit on damp grass, careful not to crease their suiting.

Sandwiches are flourished, sushi is devoured and soup is struggled with. White, pasty flesh is exposed to the sun.

Towering hulks of steel and glass surround the space, but are forgotten for this brief respite.

A mangy bird tries to tweet.

The sound is drowned out by the roar of a million air-conditioners.

Published in: on October 23, 2010 at 1:58 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Meeting crime

Barbara was bored. It was a long meeting, and ever so tiresome listening to the detached voice on the conference phone. She stood up and started stroking the meeting room wall, which had an interesting mottled grey fabric covering. The woman on the speakerphone droned on and on, oblivious of this minor act of rebellion. After so many uninterrupted minutes of speaker spiel, Barbara stepped out of the room entirely, the silent-closing hydraulic door an accessory to her meeting crime. There was only so much caressing of wallpaper one could do, after all.

To her delight, Barbara found four gleaming silver turines of warm food were waiting outside in the corridor. She felt like Goldilocks discovering the Bears’ breakfast. Mmmmm, penne pasta with tunny fish, her favourite. Barabara tucked in for an early lunch.

Published in: on September 6, 2008 at 11:34 am  Leave a Comment  
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Sausage meat and mouth noises

Adrian’s colleague, a friendly engineering type with a tendency to speak his mind, sat at his desk eating something that smelt like lightly warmed – but not cooked – sausage meat. There were minor mouth noises and the rustle of sandwich wrappings.

A creeping nausea came over Adrian.

 

Published in: on August 28, 2008 at 9:06 am  Leave a Comment  
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