Snowballs

Any poor, shivering wretch looking to come in for a warm in Helminthdale's libraries is in for a bit of a shock. The heating's off at Spadespit and Milkbeck, though the girls are keeping the service running with layers of wincyette, Red Army underwear and a fund of blue language. At Catty Library the ice in the gutter is stopping that leak in the children's library that somehow missed the snagging when the building was refitted. The school hosting Pottersbury Road Library is closed because the teachers insist on having heating (softies). Roadkill Library's closed because the children's centre that hosts it had a complete boiler failure.

Here at Ice Station Zebra the heating's full on and we're hitting a good nine degrees centigrade so long as nobody opens any doors to try to come into the library. This isn't as often as it might be as customers have to come in via the shopping centre, the entrance to which is a steep downward-sloping ramp of polished vinyl tiling. (Why? The centre was built on the side of a hill and they could have chosen any place for to put an entrance that was level with the surrounding terrain. It was probably the same dozy design pillock who removed all the rough granite setts between the tramlines in the centre of Manchester and replaced them with polished slate, just right for the pedestrian areas in our climate!)

Our senior managers' new policy of active positive engagement with the lower ranks has nothing to do with the fact that their room is five degrees colder than the open office.

"Never mind," says Seth, "it'll soon be Christmas."