Ever give yourself little treats that aren’t really treats but just a change from what you did yesterday?

In our office building, there’s no gents (toilets, that is, not refined male-folk although there’s a lack of those, too) on the ground floor where I am. We’re officially supposed to used the wheelchair-access one but I always feel guilty about that. I’m sure there was something in the bible about verily not using the water closets of the infirm lest the good lord meets you at the pearly gates and boots you down the hell hatch to the bad fire.

Even though I’ve yet to see anyone in a wheelchair within 100 yards of the building, I’d hate to come out to be confronted by a queue of people literally spinning their wheels and glaring. We work at the top of a hill, too, so if I ran off and they gave chase, they’d have the upper hand.

Just in case, I use the one on the first floor. There IS a staircase but the financial institution company representatives employed on the upper floors clearly want to keep the cloven-hooved scum of the lower circles away from them so they have a lock on the stair-well door and won’t tell us the secret password. We oiks have no fear of technology and rapidly worked out we could use the lift instead, pointedly farting as we leave to show those toffee nosed twerps what’s what.

So, the other day, feeling like the sort of treat I mentioned above, I got in the lift and just DECIDED to go to the ninth floor. Just to see! I didn’t even have any reason to go there! Yeah, I know! I’m a wild man – like Keith Moon if he knew about C++ compilers.

And there’s ANOTHER gents up there!

And more on floors 7 and 5!

I’m saving exploration of floor 3 for a special day before I venture into the untold mysteries of the even numbers. I don’t want to burn out before I’m 40.