Inpursuitof

Today was Poets Day at work. All week people have been dropping the phrase into conversations like a half sucked sweet, all sugar and uncertainty and sticky bits of fluff. Would anyone care to explain?

So it turns out that POETS day is actually Piss Off Early Tomorrow’s Saturday, which means that once a month, if your deadlines are all met, you can go home at 3. But that’s a big IF. I only made it out the door at 4.30, after deliberating the correct course of action (do I let someone know, and risk being given another just-remembered task or do I sneak out, and risk a faux-pas? I settled for making a hurried byeseeyoulaterhaveagoodweekend as I was already half way out the door), but it meant I experienced a wonderful phenomenon.

A Tube Seat. For the first time in a month.

SCORE.

People whinge about no-one looking at each other on the Tube, but if you make eye contact with someone that’s pressed against you from shoulder to calf then it becomes a whole-nother-level of space-invasion, and that’s a kind of intimacy I’m not after with someone I’ve met for 0.5 seconds. Not at 7.30 in the morning anyway.

1) Dan. It was high on the Rictor scale.

2) Most of my day at work to someone else’s project. Ok, so it’s not strictly applicable but I’m breaking allll the rules.

3) A guy had a little chuckle at me on my evening run, wearing knee-length denim shorts, in -2 degrees cee.