As I commence my last week at work before a much needed Christmas break the building naturally goes into complete maintenance meltdown.
No humidity control (essential for the safe storage of art objects).
No external emergency lighting.
Broken hand driers in the public toilets (this one makes Joe Public kill).
Dead rats in the basement.
And I’ve just eaten my last chocolate on the office communal advent calendar (I am officially panicking).
Any hope I had of a nice easy week – a nice slow, downhill cruise toward festive holidaydom – has gone completely out the window. Along with the last of the building’s residual heat.
And naturally all the contractors and engineers who normally bail us out of these sorts of problems are reluctant to do so this close to Christmas because they too are wanting to have a nice easy, downhill cruise toward their Christmas breaks and don’t want to be immersed up their necks in major (probably irresolvable) works that will keep them away from their last minute Christmas shopping and their early finish on Friday prior to hitting the pubs for a session of festive quaffing.
To quote the Pogues...
Merry Christmas my arse.