Beyond the thick glass the lights of the city softened somnolent notes of dusk. The Belfast hills became enshadowed strokes of naive charcoal. Offices all around emptied like hexagonal cells of bees since it was St Patrick’s Day tomorrow and the holiday mood was high.
I was an aberration though and probably not the only one. Others no doubt remained at their places of work too for various reasons – to keep the financial wolves at bay, to avoid the nagging wife/husband and gaggle of kids waiting at home – seeking solitude perhaps? But no, not I. I was not amongst the mundane, I was here waiting.
The waiting brought a newness to my day. I don’t wait willingly as a rule. When for example I ask for documentation to be sent to me within the hour, it arrives promptly, as well it should. When I ask for a coffee, my cute little assistant Sandra brings it to me – promptly. This is my kingdom and I am The King here. Every single brick, tile, desk, wall, vent, wire, lift, conduit, everything in The MaGauran building is mine. All paid for.