Evacuation imminent

This morning we had a bit of excitement in the loony bin – or near by the loony bin anyway. At about 9am Andre called Kirstie to say she’d try to get into the park by the back entrance (easy…) but the police had cornered off the road. No idea why but she was a bit narked as she had to walk all the way round to the other side to gain entrance (careful…) This news of course immediately excited Temp and she went up a few octaves screeching about all the possible things it could be. Kirstie was getting weary about where this could lead to and that no amount of calming words would stop the barrage of ‘amazing’ and ‘cool’ that was about to be unleashed by her fellow antipodean so, she came up with a cunning plan…

Kirstie: “Hmmmm, I wonder what could be going on? You think we should go and look?”
Nancy: “I really can’t be arsed, I have just had my Weetabix and have a coffee on the go”
Kirstie: “Good point, why waste our old, tired legs – let’s send the children to look!”

She did of course mean the temps; we don’t actually technically employ any children in this office.

Kirstie: “HEY CHILDREN! RUN DOWN THE ROAD AND SEE WHAT’S GOING ON!”
Temp: “Do you mean me?”
Kirstie: “Yes, both of you – go on, go out and see why the police are there!”

Now if this had been me, even at the tender age of 24 I would have probably told Kirstie to bugger off. I would also not have wanted to venture back out into the cold, walk down the road and look like a twat asking some policemen why they had cornered off a road. Lucky for us the temps here are not those kinds of 24 years olds.

Temp: “REALLY? COOL! Come on Ms Rigsby lets go!”

She jumps up, grabs her coat and then a very confused Ms Rigsby who hasn’t quite cottoned on to who Kirstie was referring to as ‘children’ yet, let alone the fact she is now to be dragged down the street by a hyperactive, squealing work mate.

Ahhhh, silence. Good work Kirstie.

In the mean time I start up my morning FaceArse activities and stick in the police presence to my status. Lucky for me my friend’s brother is a copper locally and comes back to tell me it is in fact a WW2 bomb they have unearthed. Blimey, something interesting is actually going on for once and not another dull drugs bust. Hey we might even be lucky enough to be evacuated? I thought Andre would be fairly intrigued by this news so I tell her. She is in fact, much more intrigued than I had bargained for…

Andre: “WW2?! Really?”
Nancy: “Well he says it’s 65 years old so that would make it WW2?”
Andre: “Well yes but that’s after the Blitz so it would be a different type of bomb, wow I wonder what they’ll do with it?”

And so she scuttles off to tell her Mum who she has had scouring the news channels for information on the incident. Meanwhile the childer return empty handed:

Temp: “We didn’t find anything out, we couldn’t even get close to any policemen to ask”
Nancy: “Probably for the best”
Temp: “What?”
Nancy: “Oh nothing, anyway we’ve found out it’s a WW2 bomb”
Temp: “COOOOOL! OH MY GOD THAT’S AMAZING! YOU THINK IT’LL GO OFF?”
Nancy: “Well seeing as it hasn’t done for 65 years then probably not”

At this point Andre strides into the room:

Andre: “Well that’s confirmed it!”
Nancy: “Sorry?”
Andre: “It’s definitely post WW2, after the Blitz so it’ll be a V1 or V2 bomb (sic – I really can’t remember what she said exactly, it was something along those lines so put down your pens and paper poised for letters of complaint history buffs…)
Nancy: “Oh I see – is that er good?”
Andre: “Well it’ll mean it’s a very large bomb and they probably won’t detonate or it’ll take out most of the area – you should let your friend on Facebook know, see if it is a V1”
Nancy: “I’ll be sure to do that.”

I did as well and he came back and said no, it was much smaller and they had now gone and been and exploded it and everything. I haven’t the heart to tell Andre, I think it’s best to leave her thinking it was a V-whatever for a while. She got awfully excited.

So everything died down a bit after that, normality (or as close to that as we can get in this place) resumed and all was once again calm. Then Andre comes stomping over again with a piece of paper for me to look at. It’s all about bun throwing and the royal wedding. Of course. Actually it’s a pretty funny article, check it:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-oxfordshire-11789590

I particularly like the part where they say: The town council said it would attempt to work round the date so civic leaders could get on to the roof to throw buns. Andre of course thought it was hilarious as well but at the same time she could very well be one of those costumed weirdo’s chucking iced pastries off the roof of the County Hall. In fact she’d probably take along some of her own bakings to throw. If I were in the crowd catching them I’d probably steer clear of her cakes – if you missed then it could be a nasty case of concussion.

Happy weekends people.