Sun shines with unwelcome heat.
He sighs, it’s been a long day.
Standing on his feet with no stopping.
Did he ever sit down?
Yes, a hurried lunch with warm squashed, sandwiches.
The heat beats down.
He’s so tired. Wearing a thick uniform designed for keeping warmth in.
So many people chatting.
What’s this muttering about now?
Will they ever stop asking questions?
British Library Gates
He longs to close the gates, finish up. Do his final checks, then home to a cold beer straight from the fridge. To lose this straightjacket he’s been wearing all day. Normally he loves his uniform. It looks smart and he feels dapper, but not today. He’s wilting!
Finally people start pouring out.
So many people, where did they all come from?
It's five o'clock, now.
Surely there can’t be many more?
The last stragglers meander out.
Woman with toddler in a pushchair. He keeps throwing things on the floor. She stops, picks them up and talks to the child, with a practised patience that she isn’t feeling. The heat bringing out fractiousness and wining in an overly tired child.
He smiles and remembers his own children doing that. All grown up now, with children of their own. His beam widens as he reflects on them. Not long now. He’ll see them tomorrow and give them a great big hug. The type that you want to last forever.
Latecomers
He snaps back to reality as some people are trying to come in.
“Sorry we’re closed.” he states.
“Aren’t you supposed to open till six?” is the frustrated reply. “Not on Saturdays, sorry.”
They turn to leave, muttering
“I told you we should have left sooner.” The rest of the conversation is lost as they move further away.
Everything is shut now. The last few stragglers are leaving. He ushers them out politely and moves the big iron gates.
One last glance around, all’s clear. Heave, a creaking groan and resounding clang. Ground shaking, he feels vibrations in his arms as the gates close.
Fastens them securely, thinking
"Peace at last!"
