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Wednesday, January 05, 2005

Supersonic 

The bloke in the corner has the air of a hibernating hedgehog about him.
He snuffles and snores, doing that Rapid Paw Movement thing which dogs do when they’re dreaming, and if it weren’t for the presence of today’s paper, you’d think he’d been there all night.
I’ve fetched him cups of tea and the occasional saucer of milk and he lets out small grunts of appreciation, but otherwise he’s quiet and unobtrusive.

Stella’s been out of the office all day so we’ve not been able to ask her what’s going on.
Mike and Terry took advantage of her absence by playing computer games and running round the car park messing with their new Global Positioning thingies, and once I’d got my daily checks done I spent the rest of the day looking at blogs.

I met up with Diana, Head Of Marketing in the brew room in the afternoon and told her about our mystery squatter. After a short while she began laughing, that knowing sneaky laughter people do when they know something that you don’t.
“What? What’s so funny?”
Hoots of laughter.
“You know who he is, don’t you?”
More hooting. “So what did you say to him? Go on, say it again.”
I retraced what I’d told her in my mind. No. I couldn’t think of anything especially funny or embarrassing.

I couldn’t get any sense out of her so I scribbled on her face with a biro and went back to my blogs.

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