Hitting The Sack Early, With Christopher Isherwood

I have discovered the perfect way of dealing with those awkward silences in the lift at work: eating and drinking.

I tried eating crisps the other day, but all of that crunching and rustling in a confined space annoyed me, so God knows what my fellow lift occupants thought. Shut up, probably.

But yesterday I discovered the perfect thing: drinking yogurt. The brand I discovered comes in a carton with a straw and a rather nice strawberry flavour.

As I walked into the office, I had to lunge for the lift. Normally I don’t care if I miss it the first time, but with one of our lifts out of action, I’d probably have to wait ages as the lift visited every floor on the way up and every floor on the way down.

There was someone in the lift from my floor. Result! I didn’t even have to press the button.

She regarded me quizzically.

What’s that you’re drinking? she said.

Yogurt, I replied. Drinking yogurt.

Oh I don’t agree with that, she said. Yogurt should be eaten not drunk. I don’t agree with drinking food. It’s a bit like that stuff, you know, not really liquid or solid.

I slurped on my drink, unable to think what she meant.

Jelly, she said.

Oh right, I replied. I do know what you mean, and I’m not normally massively into drinking yogurt.

Here I was thinking of all those annoying adverts with friendly bacteria and the like.

But this is nice, I continued. And it’s strawberry flavour.

As we left the lift, I noticed her fingernails were painted with green nail polish. Could she be subconsciously imitating Sally Bowles? Is this a further sign from the cosmos that I should go to Berlin?