HOT-WATER BOTTLE NIGHT

It’s a hot-water-bottle night tonight. Clear, starry skies and layers of sparkling frost already on the cars and rooftops.

I’ve not been out of the house today. I was going to, but changed my mind and stayed indoors. Work of course, kept me inside too.

I really miss the glum shuffle into the office. The plasma bulbs in the ceiling had a sort of stark, bright quality, matched only by the weak sun looming through the Venetian blinds. Bleary eyed, rucksacks over one shoulder, we’d amble to our desks via the kitchen, each of us avoiding the task of taking down the tinsel.

“How was your Christmas?” would ask someone inevitably, stirring a mug with a chinking spoon.

“Oh nice and quiet,” would answer someone else from the vending machine.

“Happy New Year,” chimes in a third person, a fraction too enthusiastically if you ask me.

“And to you,” I’d say back.

I used to moan about the chit-chat. I missed it today. I missed having people to make life feel more normal. Instead I simply logged on to my first meeting of the day and found myself head-first into a discussion about JavaScript and virtual machines. Head-first. No banter, no yawning or shared humour, or friendly welcomes-back; JavaScript and virtual machines. I looked out across the street, glazing over. I guess I do this now, I thought to myself. I work from home.

I suppose it’s not much better for my old colleagues. They’re at home too, almost two years after we first got that email. The PC times seem so long ago, so different. The world really changed, didn’t it? Only now if there were an office for those ex-colleagues to go back to and chit chat through, I’m not going with them.

Anyway, here I am, settling in with my hot-water bottle, ready to sleep. It’s very warm on my tummy, just where it needs to be today like a warm hug around the middle. We all need that from time-to-time.