Wednesday, 14 April 2010

Mixed news today. I've received a written warning from the partners about my unprofessional conduct in the office. It was accompanied by a rather fuller verbal warning. From now on, I must address clients by their chosen title and surname, and not (and this was underlined by matey trying to drill his finger into the table) matey, fella, pet, my good man, my man, hey, or Oi. I will not use Sir with facecious or ironic intent, nor preface it with 'Good'. 'My lover', is not acceptable even in a Bristolian accent, nor 'me old china' in cockney, mockney or Guy Ritchie. Male colleagues may not be addressed as baby, dude, or mate. It is not acceptable to wear a tie with an unbuttoned collar. Werthers Originals are not recommended as corporate gifts - see guidelines. In areas of ambiguity, 'The law is unclear on this point' would be preferred to 'It's your funeral.' Upturned waste paper bins are not for sitting on when you've run out of chairs. Personal blogs are not to be written in work hours. Separate discussions will be held with Jeremy on this matter, and in view of this general guidelines will be released to all staff to remove all possible confusion. The practice takes issues of integrity seriously...

On the other hand... it's one of those incredibly windy days that come to nowhere out of nowhere. I'd imagine spring time in the Orkneys is like this. The rain falls sideways. I hear a very loud beep... beep... beep sound, as a black-headed gull slowly reverses past on the wind. Curious. It's not until I take a few steps further and turn the corner that I see the rubbish truck responsible for the noise. But still, this flight of backwards fancy has made my day. I can't think of anything that could more improve my mood (other hearing the automated announcement "This Seagull Is Reversing"...)

I breeze through the front door. Wave cheerily at Fran. Ask her about her day. I tell her about the seagull. She ignores all of this. 'What's up?' she says.

Clever Fran.

It seems to me there are three ways people respond to adversity. Some people claim to have become wiser for the experience. Others take revenge on the world. Others, like myself, are suddenly struck by the concept of vulnerability and remember how it is to be someone else. Someone not complacent or cocksure, in other words. Today I have set my mind to sorting out my sister. I sit at the kitchen table with a piece of paper, and a title, Bel. Nothing comes to me. I get up and make a cup of tea, while I think about it. Fran comes in. I turn the piece of paper over. Fran sits down, reads my written warning, and doesn't seem in the least surprised. She turns it over again. Clever Fran. She sees at the title I wrote. 'I see,' she says.

'It's my plan to find her a husband.'
'Good plan,' she says. 'Simple, like all the best plans. Maybe too simple?'
'Maybe.'
'What sort of a person is she?'
'She's... '

I pause for thought. I couldn't begin to say. She's my sister. That's all I know. I probably know rather less that's actually true about her than her friends do.

'I can't explain,' I say.
'That might be the problem.'
'But I could show you...'