My Not So Perfect Life(13)

2. I want to know what these Chinese boxes are all about.

3. The idea of doing something that isn’t coffee surveys or hair dye is so overwhelmingly alluring, I can’t resist. It’s as if someone’s opened the door of my solitary-confinement cell and shone a light in and said, Psst, want to come out for a bit?

And by out, I mean out. There’s no shelter up here, only an iron railing running round the edge and a few low concrete walls here and there. The December air is bitter and gusty, lifting my hair up and freezing my neck. The air seems almost gray-blue with cold. Or maybe it’s just the contrast between the chilly, gloomy midwinter sky and the cozy warm buildings around us, all lit up.



From where I’m standing, I can see right into the office block next to ours, and it’s fascinating. It’s not a modern block like ours; it’s more old-fashioned, with cornices and proper windows. A girl in a navy jacket is painting her nails at her desk but keeps stopping to pretend she’s typing, and a guy in a gray suit has fallen asleep in his chair.

In the next room along, a rather intense meeting is happening around a grand, shiny table. A woman in a frilly uniform is handing round tea while an elderly man sounds off at everyone and another man is opening a large window, as though things are getting so heated, they need air. I find myself wondering what kind of company it is. Something more stuffy than ours. The Royal Institution Of Something?

A ripping sound makes me turn, and I see Alex crouching down, tearing into one of the boxes with a Stanley knife.

“So, what’s the work?” I say. “Unpacking?”

“Toys,” he says, holding the Stanley knife in his mouth as he wrenches the box open. “Adult toys.”

Adult toys?

Oh my God, this was a mistake. This is Fifty Shades of the Roof. He’ll be tying me up to the railings any minute. I need to escape—

“Not that kind of adult toys,” he adds with a grin. “Proper toys for playing with—except for grown-ups.” He lifts out something made of bright green rope and plastic. “This is a diabolo, I think. You know? The things you spin? And these are…” From another box he pulls out some steel tubes that look like telescopes. “I think they expand…yes. Stilts.”



“Stilts?”

“Look!” He pulls one out to its full length and snaps down a foot piece. “Grown-up stilts. Want to have a go?”

“What is all this?” I take the stilts from him, climb on, instantly wobble, and fall off.

“Like I said, toys for grown-ups. They’re huge in Asia. They’re supposed to be an antidote to modern stress. Now they want to expand globally. They’ve hired the Sidney Smith Agency…you know Sidney Smith?”

I nod. I mean, I don’t know the Sidney Smith Agency, but I know they’re our rival.

“Anyway, now they’ve asked us to come in on it too. I’ve been tasked with looking at the products. What do you think so far?”

“Tricky,” I say, falling off my stilts for the third time. “It’s harder than it looks.”

“I agree.” He comes over to me on a second pair of stilts, both of us constantly stepping back and forth as we try to keep balance.

“But I like being taller. That’s quite cool.”

“Useful for seeing over crowds,” he agrees. “Party stilts? That might work.” He tries to stand on one stilt, sways, and loses his balance. “Shit. You could not do this after a few beers. Can you dance on them?” He lifts a leg, wobbles, and falls down. “Nope. Also, where do you put your beer? Where’s the drink holder? This is a massive defect.”

“They didn’t think it through,” I agree.

“They have not seen the full potential.” He telescopes them back up. “OK, next toy.”



“How come they got you to do this?” I ask, as I fold my own stilts up.

“Oh, you know.” He flashes me a grin. “I was the most immature.” He opens another box. “Hey. A drone.”

The drone is a kind of military-looking helicopter, with a remote control the size of a small iPad. It must have demonstration batteries in it, because soon Alex has got it to float up in the air. As it comes flying toward me, I dodge with a yelp.

“Sorry.” He lifts a hand. “Just getting the hang of it…” He presses a button on the remote, and the drone lights up like a spaceship. “Oh, this is great! And it’s got a camera. Look at the screen.”

He sends up the drone, high in the air, and we both watch the picture of the rooftops of Chiswick, getting more and more distant.

“You could see everything in the world with one of these,” enthuses Alex, swooping the drone down and up. “Think how many experiences you could have. You could see every church in Italy, every tree in the rain forest….”

“Virtual experiences,” I correct. “You wouldn’t be there. You wouldn’t feel the places or smell them….”

“I didn’t say you could have perfect experiences, I said you could have experiences.”

“But that’s not an experience, just floating by from a distance. Is it?”

Alex doesn’t answer. He brings the helicopter downward, switches off its lights, and sends it toward the neighboring building.