Welcome to My World. Miranda Dickinson
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face appeared in the doorway to his office. ‘Harriet, do you have a minute?’
‘Sure,’ she replied, standing up.
‘And bring us a coffee while you’re at it, eh, chick?’
‘Ooh, tea, please,’ Nus said, without looking up from her phone.
‘Hot choc for me.’ Tom’s voice floated in from the depths of the stockroom.
Groaning, Harri collected everyone’s mugs from the office and made her way to SLIT’s ridiculously small kitchen. In truth, the title ‘kitchen’ was incredibly generous for what the room actually was; calling it a cupboard with a stainless-steel sink squeezed into one corner would be more accurate. The green vinyl covering the floor looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years and stuck to the soles of her shoes as Harri man oeuvred her way around the boxes of brochures that were haphazardly stacked by the entrance. A few brave shafts of light managed to break through the grey grime covering the tiny safety glass window as the old water boiler shuddered and bumped into life. Trying not to inhale the strong smell of mouldy plastic, Harri filled the mugs with hot water and balanced them on a ‘wood-effect’ tray that had once passed for mahogany (but now resembled grey-brown peeling chipboard) along with tea-bags, coffee jar, hot chocolate canister, slightly damp sugar bag and spoons, carefully navigating the boxes to emerge back into the office. Having worked at SLIT for as long as she had, she’d quickly learned that the safest way to prepare drinks was at her own desk rather than braving the kitchen’s cramped confines.
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