Humans come in all sorts of shapes, sizes and colours.

It’s generally accepted that we wear clothes for reasons of decency and protection from the elements, but also to convey a willingness to fit in with our fellows from whichever society we belong to, while affording a means to stand out from the crowd.

We style our hair to give ourselves a contemporary look, or for purely practical reasons, or in my case, in any way that gives it a modicum of control.

Women (generally women) use makeup to enhance the best of their facial features and to cover up blemishes that they’d rather go unnoticed. We’re always striving to find the next miracle face cream that will reverse, delay or cover up the signs of ageing.

Medical instruments intended to correct visual impairments have also become fashion items, allowing the spectacle wearer to almost be recognised from the style of their glasses more than anything else.

We cover ourselves in a veneer.

Sometimes this a finely polished and complementary outer layer that enhances who an individual is, that gives off clues as to the real person within: a thoughtful person who cares enough about themselves to make the best of their features without being showy.

In other cases, the veneer is a little bit dull and scratched, but it’s still perfectly serviceable and clean, it just needs a bit of a spruce up. It’s a protective layer that’s there to do the basics and look after what really matters underneath.

Some people come without a finish too, they use their outward appearance to display everything about themselves, their personality and emotional makeup. There’s probably nothing wrong with this, but we all need to have some degree of protection from what the world throws at us.

Then there’s the plastic coating on MDF. All very shiny and coming in a variety of styles, finishes and colours, but underneath, instead of solid oak, there’s nothing but hollow bits of chewed up fibreboard, with false nails and Ugg boots.

Death of an administrator
I thought I was slipping into a coma this afternoon at work. A typo there would have had me slipping into a comma. I bet even Lewis Carroll couldn’t have come up with that one.

Tina stared at the page. The black shapes merged and swirled and danced before her tiring eyes. As the blackness engulfed her vision from its periphery, it focused into a small white dot, the centre of which held a single inverted black teardrop. It grew within its bubble, forcing it to expand back out to the edges of the page, obliterating all the other characters in its path. With its increased size, detail became visible in the blackness: its surface was a sea of activity, differentiating into discrete, embryonic features. Eyes, nose, mouth. Angry eyes, flared nostrils, snarling mouth… TINA, WHERE ARE MY COSTINGS????

I did feel myself going at one point – not into a coma, obviously – that kind of mellow tide of extreme sleepiness that comes after taking cocodamol. Lovely at home, terrible at work. Unless you work for Google where they encourage their staff to take a quick nap to refresh themselves.

Maybe I should do something to my veneer in terms of painting open eyes on my eyelids.