Angel Islington, London

There’s a pretty tower visible over the top of the neighboring office building; its roof is dome-shaped and oxidised copper, with a port window and a little spire that birds constantly crowd around. Each day the slow passing of time is marked by the movement of clouds outside my office window like a time-lapse sequence in a documentary – the evolution of a species, the unfurling of a flower. I watch the low lying clouds scurry past – first stratus, then cumulus, and finally cirrus spread across the sky, brushing passenger planes that fly northwards.

My work is so repetitive I constantly shift in and out of autopilot mode. Somehow I’ve found myself doing data entry for an organisation similar to the one I worked for when I left university as a graduate. It’s ironic that I’m starting at the bottom again, doing work that just about anyone can do. I take it as a timely reminder that I’m not indispensable after all.

I feel tired.

One day as I walk towards the train station, I happen to glance up and see the tower from another angle. All this time I had thought it was a tower attached to a grand old building, only to discover that the building is a Starbucks one.

PS. From Tuesday I will be working at the Specialist Schools and Academies Trust as their website administrator for at least a couple of months – so I’m back on the horse again :-)


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