Live/Work Blog

So did you take time over Winterstice to reflect (no, I don’t mean in the mirror after the party last night – although it’s usually the quickest way to sober up: “Who’s that ghastly looking loser in the window?”), to ponder the meaning of Life? Your Life perhaps?

We don’t get a lot of time for pondering on the Giant Squirrel Wheel we call civilised society, so that’s where holidays come in handy. Although sometimes it doesn’t do to ponder too much: more divorces are set in train after a Happy Christmas than any other time of the year. No, I was thinking more along the lines of “What the hell’s it all about and where do I fit in?”, assuming that you’re working at home or in a live/work nirvana not just for economic reasons – although these are compelling, what moved you to become a live/work or home worker?

Was it a small conversion on the road to your boss’s office to discuss your overdue raise? Or to that trumped-up tin cupboard surrounded by unmentionable carpet stains that glorifies under the name “coffee dispenser” and reduces an essential daily ritual to the level of Swarfega? Double-decaff latté is such a wonderful metaphor for 21st century life, don’t you think? Wonderful concept, brilliant presentation, cleansed of all reality and largely froth. I think the financial institutions, especially those that sell options or other non-existent “goods”, are dealing in the froth on the froth or, to use a feline simile the Burmese Boys would relate to, the fleas on the fleas on the fleas. Where’s the substance to everything? What are we actually making? Are we about to become one enormous call centre: “Could you just hold for me!” “No! You hold yourself. I’m holding onto reality.”

So, like me, did you finally start to see the Emperor’s New Clothes in almost everything we do at work? When I go past an office block and look in, Alice-like, at all the activity, I do begin to wonder. There they all are, sitting in a vast space, surrounded by other human beings and what do they spend most of the day doing? Staring fixedly at a 13 by 9½ inch sheet of glass or gel which alternately irritates or confuses them. (Of course, if you’re one of those rather smug Apple aficionados, your irritation and confusion will be better designed.)

OK, so I was just making a point. Computers are good for us – sort of. And yes, we do need to find out quickly whether we can afford that new Vivienne Westwood belt – the dress is next month, obviously. But I hope you get what I mean. The thing I’m getting at is: is home working or live/work the antidote to Officia, that awesome, voracious and entirely naked empire that has conquered all but the few natives left in Amazonia, or the guys in Wormwood Scrubs?

If it is, is it sufficient just to enjoy the relative reality and authenticity of our chosen and cherished working environment? The PowerPoint CDs encrusted with this morning’s Honey Nut Loops left behind by your little angels, the gaily coloured shed among the (very) early daffodils, the loft conversion with the views across the meadows to the pub and the low beam (same effect), or the retro-fitted garage with the tasteful Georgian fanlights in the door?

Should we homeworkers not fight back at the transparent tyrant, seek to strip the naked emperor of his “clothes”, redress the balance of reality at work, and massage the muddled minds of the misguided masses? Rise up, homeworkers, demand common sense, wave those seed catalogues for all to see (well, the cats), as you march meaningfully across the room to the coffee machine!

Forgive my rantings – let’s get back to something more substantial: Live Work Lenny’s manky cardi (it was a cardi really, wasn’t it Lenny? Own up, now.) and Elizabeth’s desperate fight with giant marshmallows.

Stop worrying Lenny, the answer is at hand – just say you saw it here first! In Victorian times, children used to play with card dolls and interchangeable paper clothes that they hitched onto the bodies. Lenny, you can do the same! All you need is a few large sheets of card, coloured crayons, a pair of scissors and non-toxic glue – your Blue Peter moment! Sat at your video phone, you could be Little Miss Muppet from the waist down, and – covering that beloved cardi – you could be Mr Über Executive, all ghastly power tie and go-faster pinstripes. No one would know – no one would dare ask.

And Elizabeth. Well now, there’s a simple answer to this. No, I don’t mean Kit-Kats. You’d be surprised how many people say: “Dahrling, must do lunch. I’ll call you. Mwah, mwah!” when they bump into each other at pilates or speed-dating. And then don’t. So do lunch Elizabeth. Invite a friend round, tell them to bring something to eat, you provide soup and salad, and bingo, you’re eating again. Having been so good, you can then reward yourself with marshmallows. (By the way, sticking chocolate fingers into them works really well – a bit like a winter “Supawhip”.). Let me know how you get on.