Time to Go Home

Only ten minutes to go, and the office clock seemed to stop. The five minute variations from clock to clock around the unit assumed great significance, and we scurried around the ground floor making sure the pots were washed, the patients were dry and the desk was tolerably tidy. Newly arrived staff were always either deliriously happy because they hadn’t yet started, or morose and snappy because they were about to. The latter group were often extremely touchy and pedantic about the state of the unit on arrival, and this was the main reason that last minute spring-cleaning tended to occur. One right-headed staff member described the process as sprinkling dog dirt with sequins.
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