Owed to a desk

Every week of the soon-to-end year, and indeed of the year before, my desk and I have spent not less than forty-five hours a week in closest proximity.

Except for the annual two ten-day business trips back to Europe.

We sort of belonged together, needed each other. But for you my screen would be on the floor, as would this scrivener. Thank you for your support.

Looking beyond, out of the window, we can contemplate together the tallest flagpole in the world. Not many desks can make the same claim.

Looking ahead to 2008 I shall be away from you more than I shall be with you. Take this as forewarning of infidelity, promiscuity, even. A saucy French desk has caught my eye; flirtation with a hot Teutonic desk starts very soon. I’ll tell you about them, of course, next time I’m back in the Sandlands.