02206 MR T TINGLE BALTIC FLOUR MILL SOUTH SHORE ROAD GATESHEAD NE8 3BA
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Date 14 November 2022
On waking, Merg was anxious, so she got up. Soon finding she was anxious on rising, she lay down. She remained anxious and so attempted a seated position. Sitting provided no relief so she rose to her feet once more. She continued in this routine of standing and lying and sitting and rising, until she was bored. The boredom provided a little light relief until the thought that she should do something to alleviate the boredom rendered her body rigid to the point of vibration. Finding herself no longer bored but overwhelmed she returned to moving her body through various heights and positions. It was then she heard a strange tapping sound. It was coming from the skirting board. A small flat white triangle emerged. It quivered awkwardly as though stuck before lurching forward, revealing itself as the folded corner of a sheet of white printer paper. On the paper was a sentence that read, If form 2a-4c is not returned within 28 days then sanctions may be applied. Below that was a digital signature squiggled above the words DAVE DESPACIO, decision maker. In the bottom corner was a logo that looked like a pile of shit with a flake stuck in it and the words ‘Kensington Council’. Merg stood with her body bent from the waist so she was perpendicular with the sheet and read it with some interest. She moved the words ‘decision maker’ around her mouth slowly and twisted her head to try and decipher the logo but she did not reach for the paper, preferring it to keep its distance on the linoleum.
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A shuffling sound began from behind the wall, building to a rumble before a flurry of sheets followed the first, moving much faster this time, without the bother of the quivering corner checking if it was safe to proceed. They flew from the skirting board with such speed they made a series of clicks as they landed. Another rumble began and soon a thick flurry of forms erupted from the dado rail above, harmonising the clicks into a not unpleasant ’pfft-pfft-pfft’ sound. Eventually a social worker crawled out of the woodwork. To say Merg was surprised would be an understatement. She knew it was a social worker, she’d heard the name and maybe seen photos in books or documentaries, but it was peculiar seeing one here on the floor in front of her. They were archaic things that didn’t look right in the contemporary world, it was like seeing a dodo or a floppy disk. I guess they are re-wilding nowadays, Merg thought to herself. If wolves are being reintroduced to Scotland, perhaps social workers are being reintroduced in England. The social worker readjusted her clothes, yanking up her tights then smoothing out her skirt in an instinctive but neat little jump. She gathered the papers that had heralded her arrival, making a half-hearted attempt at ordering them. She then fixed a glassy smile on Merg, tilting her head slightly. Merg slowly straightened her back from the 90 degree angle she had been examining the papers from. They stood in silence eyeing one another. The social worker occasionally changing the direction of her professionally-perfected head tilt. A hefty silence continued between them until Merg could take it no more and announced; “You crawled out of the woodwork.” This was obviously the wrong thing to say as a stain of annoyance spread through the social worker’s smile. “Well... no, not exactly,” she said as she adjusted her glasses, “I don’t make a habit of crawling. And besides, where else, exactly, would you expect me to be? It’s not like the old days when we had departments, offices, filing cabinets. Our resources have been decimated.” The social worker stretched her mouth back into its closed-lip curve of concern. “But more importantly, how are you today Maeve?” “Merg,” said Merg “Oh dear, that doesn’t sound very good,” said the social worker “Now, let’s see what we can do to get you back into work.”
Merg
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by Ker Wallwork www.kerwallwork.com @kerwallwork