Wednesday, 23 November 2011
Terry looks like an old-timer from a Steinbeck novel. He has a long beard that’s going white and wears a wide-brimmed hat that makes him look like a prospector. It’s a Friday afternoon and we’re busy trying not to think about five o’clock. The long day drags on even further if we steal cursory glances at the clock. So we divert ourselves by playing chess and taking turns to sleep while the other one of us keeps watch. Not that there’s any real need to keep a look out. It’s as if we’ve been stationed at a lonely outpost and the generals have forgotten about us, their attention focussed far away where the hotbed of battle really is. In many ways, it’s the perfect job.