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close up - 17.11.2010
i'm not a lumberjack, but i am ok - 05.11.2010
tittewagen - 04.11.2010
bow chika wa wa - 26.10.2010
pointless quaver moaning - 13.10.2010

26.02.2010 - 10:41 a.m.

Day 0

finally news has arrived, the news we were all fearing, the free vend coffee machine is being replaced by another free vend coffee machine that costs less, looks sexier, will make us all sexier by association and will bring about world peace and zero pollution. We weren't fearing the change in machine, just the period of absence inbetween the installations, this could be the hardest (series of) 24hrs' of our lives. Still, we'll remain stoically english in our grim fortitude and stiff upper lippedness in the face of rapidly diminishing caffeine levels.

Day 1

I wandered automatically into the canteen, first thing on arriving, haven't even turned on the computers yet, must seek coffee to activate brain. My fuzzy eyes can just make out a small troll emptying out the guts of the machine, she cackles as the hoppers are poured into black sacks. The horror of the situation has now come home, we all secretly hoped the troll wouldn't arrive until mid morning, allowing us to stock up on the small flimsy plastic containers of superheated brown stuff to stave off the inevitable DT's associated with nil by mouth. I asked her if i could take some of the coffee and the mystical 'Non Dairy Whitener' that imparts such a distinctive flavour and move it into our private stash so we can alchemise our our version of robo-coffee, she points to a tied up black sack and cackles, truly we are lost.

later that day some have resorted to dark age technologies and are actually boiling water to pour over freeze dried coffee, i tried some but it just doesn't have the machine-i-ness that we're used to, sure it's brown and hot but it's lacking a certain je ne sais quoi, i can't put my finger on it exactly, the deus ex machina has left the building.

the day barely registers as it passes, none of us have the motivation to get up, let alone to do any work. I heard that some are passing round pro-plus tablets, but it's just not natural, i decline and choose to remain in torpor.

Day 2

we start out cheery, almost forgetting the missing elephant that's no longer in the room, at elevenses the reality returns home like an earlier escaped forty tonne rhino tied with elastic, i try a cup of home brew and burn my tongue, why god, why have you forsaken us, now i talk funny and i'm welling up at the unfairness of the situation, i cry for a bit in the supply cupboard. I don't eat lunch because my tongue hurts too much, i snack on small packets of sugar that i can insufflate directly into my esophagus, thus bypassing my tongue, later i cry a bit more.

the office is devoid of movement, yet is full of people, not one man-jack among us has the motivation to do anything, we argue weakly in whispers about timing and why couldn't they deliver the new machine the same day as the old is taken, no agreement is reached as none can be bothered, most stare blankly out the window, possibly dreaming of pigeons that may appear bearing succour, the pigeons just laugh at our situation and fly elsewhere, where free vend coffee machines are plentiful and scamper playfully through the carpet tiled landscapes.

Day 3

many of us have passed the point of desperation, like a crowd of diabetics in shared hypoglycemic coma dream, we exist in a place without caffeine, only greyness and blah. Oates, my long time friend volunteers to make a foray to the facilities managers office to confirm when the new machine will arrive, we don't expect him back.

Oates returns four hours later to what would be rapturous applause if only we had the energy, one of our group shows his recognition to Oates' return by rolling off his desk and hitting the floor hard with his face, he doesn't stir again from his new resting place. We're informed that he was informed by some outside informer (no doubt with access to his own free vend machine) the new machine will arrive tomorrow, everso briefly there's a ripple of interest and even a couple of smiles break out, like the first crepuscular rays after a tornado, hope shines on us, however it's still a full day away, in our weakened states we might not all make it

Day 4

as we arrive in the morning we each go via the canteen to see if the new machine has arrived, after all the old went early, maybe the new one will arrive early too, we each of us are left dejected and we shuffle to the dolly cart waiting at the door, this way we don't have to expend energy walking, we can all pile on and whoever has a leg that can reach the floor propels us across the cavernous desert of a warehouse towards the office, the concrete looks so dry, so very dry.

periodically one of our number will drag themselves towards the canteen with their fingers, powered only by hope, hope of change, change that can refresh us with frothy brown life juice, change that will rescue us from the doldrums of our liquid ingestion, we all love change and the hope that change brings, change = brown and brown = good therefore good = change, it seems so clear to us, we start to laugh as the enormity of our collective profundity sinks in, our ergot reasoning stands us proud, hallucinations of sobriety, sobriety sucks.

by two pm there's still no machine arrived

by three pm there's no machine arrived

by four pm there's no machine returned

by four twenty pm there's excitement, large heralds in dungarees with rear-facing peak caps have arrived and they preceed the way of a bound beast on a sack truck, could this monolithic visitor borne by monosyllabic porters be our saviour, our deus returned ? sadly the monolith remains immobile, no installation will take place today, for the magic to work it must be wrought by a troll, one of the chosen ones who knows the way of the bean, as translated by our mechanical turk, our dispenser of hope, the free vend coffee machine.

Day 5

we approach the machine wearing boots filled with trepidation and a mantle of awe, lights in blue glint in the semi darkness of the early hour, one of the mysterious sages has posted instructions on how to navigate the gleaming and friendly lcd display, the machine looks like the girl-bot from wall-e, but brown and rectangular. Gathered around we slowly work through the instructions, one pointing at the words, a second spelling them out, another pressing the buttons and a fourth staring hopefully up the dispenser hole, with a chu-kung sound a cup is expelled into the filling cradle at near supersonic speed and filled with frothy brown heaven.

but noooooooo, we're obviously being tested, the flimsy plastic receptacle is so thin (thinner than usual even) we're receiving 3rd degree burns retrieving the cup form the cradle, we tentatively give the offering a taste.

we agree to pour the 'coffee' down the sink and try again, the 'tea' fairs even worse, one tried the soup which he says tastes like a mouthful of salt, we remind him he should be used to that given his lifestyle choice, we collectively enter a prolonged period of beveragexperimentation.

Just one day ago we would have boiled up river mud, now suddenly we're all michelin critics. Give a man a drink and he'll drink it, give a man a choice of drinks and he'll transmute into a whiny, procrastinating, know-it-all baby, incapable of appreciating what's in front of him.

I'm glad i only have one wife, polygamy sounds like a recipe for disaster.

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