Out of print

The printer in the office was on the blink so Linda and Nadine in IT tried the age-old advice dished out by IT departments the world over: ‘have you tried switching it off and on again?’

We hadn’t, but Sara did, and it worked, vindicating all those times that the ‘switch off, switch on’ advice has been pointless. The main obstacle after that was Sara transferring me my printouts that she was left clutching. From a distance I suggested leaving them on the floor to sterilise for 72 hours at which point I’d collect them. This seemed impractical with urgent visa paperwork to prepare and the office’s insistence on a ‘clean desk’ policy. In the end she handed them over without breathing on them.

I had a couple of ciders at Brewdog after work with my colleagues Nicolas and Rob and was rewarded with a pounding head. It serves me right for saying ‘the one most like Strongbow’ when asked for my order. From the reaction of the server I now know this isn’t a joke suitable for a branch of Brewdog in a place like Cambridge.

I wonder if this breakage was caused by an over-zealous cyclist failing to heed the instruction to dismount.