Blades of rain

An unexpected day working at home today, owing to the fact that much of Sheffield, where I was supposed to be going, is underwater. Train services are suspended, the station was evacuated yesterday afternoon and several roads into the city are blocked with either water or abandoned cars, so I made the executive decision not to even attempt the trip.

When I arrived home from Bracknell last night at 10.30, Nikki had been watching News 24 most of the evening. Within 10 seconds of seeing the footage of the streaming rivers where the roads should be I said "I'm not going there!" Even though the floods aren't that close to where I would be going, they're not that far away either!

One of the buildings affected is quite close to the river and coincidentally the place I'd had to visit the week before last to have my photo taken for a new photo-ID pass.

"Just go along there," my contact in the security section told me, "and they'll sort you out."

So I did. Walked in on a group of building security guards doing what building security guards do best (sit around on their arses all day talking about the football, the woman in accounts, last night's telly and where they're going drinking tonight. Pretty much like all the other office workers then. Except most of the women don't talk about that woman in accounts. At least, not in the same way).

"Hello," I said breezily. "I've come to have my picture taken."
There was a sharp intake of breath and looks of consternation passed from man to man. There were shrugs.
"No-one told us you were coming."
"No, they told me I didn't need an appointment. Just turn up, and you'll look after me."
"Well, see, the thing is, I haven't got the camera with me here today."
I look forlorn.
"The only reason I've travelled to Sheffield today is so that you can take my photo."
The breath, taken in so sharply only moments before, is now blown out in resigned fashion.
"You'd better follow me then."

We leave the building. We walk to the next building, which is in fact less than 100 yards away. We enter that building, walk behind the security desk to a small room that contains a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet. The filing cabinet is locked. Security man unlocks it, opens it, reaches in and retrieves...a digital camera! Aha! So the only reason you tried to put me off from having my photo taken today was so you could avoid taking a little exercise. "I haven't got the camera with me today." Right!

I was still chewing this over in my mind as I walked back through Sheffield centre to the other office, when I was spoken to by a traffic light. It took me by surprise at first.

"Take care! You in the red jacket! Look both ways!"

I was crossing the tram lines and approaching the roadway. I was indeed wearing my red anorak, so I knew the traffic light was addressing me. As if to confirm this, the light repeated its warning.

"Take care! You in the red jacket! Look both ways!"

Then I remembered reading that some cities were installing "talking" CCTV cameras to help with petty crime. So they could yell at scallies for dropping litter, that kind of thing. How cool, I thought, that they use it to make people aware of their road safety obligations too. I stood on the kerb, waiting for the traffic to clear so I could cross. Now that my mind wasn't full of how lazy the security guard had been, and I was right on top of the talking traffic light, I could hear its message properly the next time it issued forth.

"Take care! Two-way traffic! Look both ways!"