The first Monday of February. National Sickie Day according to voices on the radio: the day when more people “pull a sickie” than any other day in the year. Holidays a long way off, miserable weather, credit card bills arriving. You weren’t feeling too jolly yourself. The brisk walk to the office through wintergreen parkland mostly dealt with that.
You have been getting through the days on two small sandwiches from your lunchbox and several cups of coffee either side of midday. The only GF item available at the cafeteria, bananas aside, is the Cadbury’s Crème Egg.
Now the inglorious confession: you ate three of the things today. It’s got to be done! said the cash-till lady knowingly as she rang up the 60p charge for egg No. 3 at about 3.45pm.
Like white confetti
one hundred grazing seagulls
dot the pitch