Friday 14 May 7.30am, second floor, GBH House: Queer seeing Team P in the flesh after eight months. Each of us is shyly eyeing the other, as we plonk our stuff down on and under a set of six desks in my favoured corner.
Posh Boy and Young Thruster need to go up a shirt size. Posh Girl and Charlie Boy need a splash more Grecian 2000. Sporty Girl looks older; deeper lines? Shorter hair? Geek Lad now has locks gripped in a rubber band.
Silly boy. Seeing them lounging in their lairs on Zoom has made me feel I know them better – and like them more for it. I must be getting sentimental.
Anyway…. sod working from home! Great to be back! Mission: to establish squatters’ rights. Like German tourists hitting the pool loungers, we have snuck in early. Half the seventh floor is being sublet. I caught wind of the plan last week from an occupier agent at Carter Jonas. The elves from facilities have crammed in more child-sized desks to accommodate those evicted from the seventh. What do they think we are? Rats!
I sit on the window sill, feet on Charlie Boy’s desk. As the laggards trickle in, they get the message in a glance. Team P’s towels are down. Stay off our patch.