Right at my back, there's an endless percussion of qwerty keyboards, foot tapping, jangling loose change and house keys. One guy stares into space, rocking in time with a pen top that he clicks and clicks and clicks. His friend has that jiggly leg thing that makes the whole desktop sway in time, me included. Games and music soundtracks leak from head cans and I'm thinking of how awful it must feel to be trapped in a small space with a swarm of insects.
Everyone wears black and BIG jewellery. There's a lot of footwear statements. Loud. Bling. Brash. Pristine. I'm aware that my old walking shoes don't have the groovy logo or stripe of belonging. There's a worn patch under my left sole where the stones and grit on my beach walks have imprinted their mark. That's the closest I get to a tattoo.
No surprises that I've been spending lots of times in wild places these last couple of weeks, on the beach, pulling up weeds or sitting on a hill. It's like the continuation of my holiday, except unexpected, unplanned for. This bit of wildness was unplanned as well.
Reason being, my beloved Mac has reached the point of no return and I have been catching up with on line stuff at Internet cafes, discovering that they can be very strange kind of hangouts. Things have moved on since I last had reason to venture into such places. POW!!! A different world to the places I usually write, but maybe I should try coming here in the quiet times? Maybe midweek, or midnight, or Sunday morning? Could spark off some interesting work, but I have to admit, I can't wait to get back to work at home next week.
For now, big guys in big shoes and black coats high five me like I'm a friend, except we all know I'm just passing through.