Shock and (B)Awe(deaux)

I may have mentioned that in addition to being a pretty serious mover and shaker, I am also the office DIY man, as the most able-bodied and youngest of the males.

One of my key managerial roles is to move boxes from the ground floor to the second floor, up two flights of stairs. Normally these boxes are filled with books, belonging to the boss' wife's publishing company.

This woman is interesting. She'll flirt with me sometimes, mostly to get something from me; on most occasions, however, she will treat me with utter disdain, quite literally turning her nose up at me when I say "Good morning."

Blonde, slim and confident, she was clearly a looker in her youth, and her CV shows a series of fashion magazines of the kind which make me automatically reach for a gun. I don't doubt that a discussion of my interests would send her into a deep sleep within minutes. She and I, we both know, are not the sort of people who normally interact. Antipathy occasionally rears up, but our differences are generally held in check by my slight resemblance to her young son.

So today, my face went

as she came downstairs, handed me a card (me and me alone), and placed a box on my desk. Tomorrow she leaves on holiday. As everyone looked at me with disgust I opened the card, which thanked me for all the lifting I'd done this year, called me "blue eyes" and wished me a merry Christmas. The box contains 12 bottles of rather nice wine.

I now feel as though I understand nothing.

But really, what a bloody nice thing to do. Great when people surprise you.