I've been requested by J to make a full and complete report on the events of Mellow Monday. Okeedokee. Here goes...

First Things First

Woke up. Still dark. Dozed off again. Woken at the last minute by the noise of my neighbour slamming the door, proof that noisy neighbours can be useful. Got washed, dressed, fed (in no particular order) and stumbled down the stairs to start my short amble to work. Lovely morning, bright sunny sky, but heck it was cold.

Dramatic Developments In Stockroom Street

It's over... It's all over... The magic that was KS and Miss A is at an end. A sensational split took place over the weekend. I know, it's a huge shock to hear of such a tragic end to a blossoming relationship, but hey, that's life in the stockroom. It was cold outside, and now it's all gone cold inside.

As it happens, all parties behaved in a mature responsible fashion and no-one threw tantrums or burst into tears except J, who already knew about the split and was waiting for emotional outbursts to fill in the boring bits of his day (which is most of it). Sorry J. Maybe next time.

Feeling Old

A bunch of us were chatting and in the course of conversation we got around to J's favourite hobby. No, not the martial arts violence, I mean his addiction to parkour. With lively little Miss L bouncing and skipping around the stockroom I suggested J teach her the tricks of his gymnastic and devil-may-care pastime.

"Parkour?" She answered with a sneer, "That's easy."

Erm... Easy? Have you seen what they do?

"I used to be a gymnast." She shrugged.

But now you're getting a bit old for that? My humour is so biting sometimes.

"You're how old, exactly?" She answered with a cold stare. Meeeow. Good answer Miss L. I admit defeat and point out that I'm 48 and proud of it. So there.

Arriving On A Breath Of Wind

Miss L is a little slip of a girl, but when I spotted her hanging off the end of a clothes rail, I pointed out the whole thing could fall over. We all laughed on the basis that L was so light there was no chance of her falling over. She doesn't walk to walk, she opens her jacket and arrives on a breath of wind. She's sometimes late when the wind changes direction. We have our own gothic Mary Poppins.

Later That Night

Went home. I grabbed a bit of television while I grabbed what was left of yesterdays chinese meal from the fridge (I am an expert with a microwave oven and yes, I do glow in the dark) and came across Animal Park, a sort of fly-on-the-wall documentary series about Longleats Safari Park. I think it was the declaration of a dramatised tiger attack that got my attention. Sorry Kate.

But apart from man-eating tigers keying the zebra-stripe paint job on a landrover, I was suprised to learn that giraffes are not as boring as you might imagine. During daytime, they just wander around, chewing this, chewing that, looking splendid but otherwise pointless. During the night, they party. They are literally party animals. The infra-red camera revealed all. So my tip for an interesting late night party is invite a giraffe and turn off the lights.

Lets see... Grab my telephone directory... Giraffe Hire....