pre-apocalyptic

Strange days: for a time the air was filled with a dust blown in from – I think I read – Mars. People were being advised not to breathe.

At work, approval for our relocation has finally come through from the Department of Health. Originally we were told that this would be a mere formality, a box-ticking. So how long does it take the government to tick a box? Answer: about six months.

However, now they may be closing the donor suite, which was the one thing they definitely weren't going to do before, so an air of uncertainty is still being carefully maintained. And when, or if, we do get a new office it may be equipped for 'agile working'. This sounds more fun than it is: I thought they'd put your desk on the ceiling and you'd have to shin up ropes to get to it. Sadly no – it just means you don't have a desk. There are fewer workstations than people and so you take what you can get. This attracts 'a higher calibre of people' apparently. Obviously if you have to literally fight for access to a computer every morning, then this will necessarily be the case – it's called survival of the fittest. Though that's just a theory, of course.

My family went away to Cornwall, so in order to offset any existential angst occasioned by the fact that I wouldn't be staying at my Mum's on Saturday night, I went to Romford on Saturday. I bought a manbag in TK Maxx. It says 'Religion' on one side and there's a skeleton praying on the other. This is probably something trendy (Shoreditch is alluded to in one corner) but I just like the idea of walking around with a bag saying 'Religion'. I feel like I'm making a statement, but without really saying anything. I also like the skeleton.

'Do you want a bag?' asked the woman serving me in TK Maxx. Since I was in fact buying a bag, this question confused me initially: for a moment I thought that TK Maxx staff had been trained to cast doubt on their customers' selections. It seemed an unusual sales strategy. But of course she meant did I want a carrier bag. And I did.

So I walked away with my bag in another bag. I wasn't sure if Romford was ready for 'Religion' yet. But I needn't have worried.

On the way back to the station there was a man in the street who had gone all funny, closing his eyes and looking like he might topple over. A woman went up to him and asked him if he was alright, and he immediately launched into an end-of-days Biblical rant. This wasn't aimed at her, he had – I suppose - just been psyching himself up for this performance. Nevertheless, she fled as if the apocalypse were indeed at hand, as did I.