Clouds in their café

Oh the lifts/elevators at the bureau are quite the source of joy, vexation and bemusement for a people person such as me. I am under the deluded self-important belief,  not dissimilar from the majority of those who blog lifestyle for Fairfax online, that I am the only person in the whole world who observes and thus believe MY observations are GOHLD (Oh hello, Tony Hadley. What on earth are you doing here,  you whimsical, wily old New Romantic? Still as you are, may I just remind you that you owe Robin Gibb big time in the diction stakes. Duly noted? Lovely. Now please go and help those Kemps with their hair and acting. Yes, "toodles". Love ya. Bye bye. Ciao Ciao, uh, huh. Mmm Shee you sshoon. Can't promise. Oh go you silly has been of a troubadour who I still confuse with the singer from Wet Wet Wet ).

Anyhow back to the lifts at work. Constant source of entertainment for all of us (hey, who says I don’t have the common touch, I’m up there with lady Di except I always insist on wearing a seatbelt).

As recounted previously on NSR I’ve had dramas in the lifts - I've been trapped and witnessed lift rage (as AJP Taylor once sang - lawks first an allusion to Carly and now her ex....) . However, the  most common and tiresome occurrence ( and no, it not  the going up, the going down, the witty allusions to the opening theme song of Are you being Served, or even the titter when someone asks 'are you going down' (oh larfarama, yes but what do they mean?)) it is the  flagrant titivation that goes on in front of the lift’s one mirrored wall.

Crumbs. So many times I’ll enter a lift and spring some tit priimping and preening in front of the mirror . Big whoop I hear Vanity 6 cry. I’m with you, girlfriends. It is the fact that titivators are never remotely embarrassed and continue pouting lips, tossing mane, sucking in cheeks or just gazing  after a witness to their  vanity enters the moving box. Being the well adjusted sweetheart that I am, I move forward, I move backward, I move any which way  to ensure that I block Narcissus’ reflection. It makes me happy, and bein' happy, well that's the stuff of life, innit.