All the activities above require fingertips to be glued to the keyboard, eyes to the screen and bum to the ergonomic chair. Not healthy. We are a physio nightmare.
I am perfectly decently workaholic, but there is someone who obliges me to insert intervals into my work-filled fury. Introducing Biff Screen-Break. And here he is.
Who is this mysterious character, you may ask?
He is my four-legged canine hero who ensures I don’t suffer from cramped fingers, sore wrists and stinging eyes.
It’s not his real name, of course. It’s his Super Dog alter ego persona that comes into force every half an hour or so. First, I hear the humph as he emerges from his slumber. Then there’s the light tinkle of the collar. The long stretch. The subtle exhalation of wind escaping from his nether passageway. Sorry. But I know what’s coming next … The cold, wet nose under the armpit. Not such a problem in winter, but quite shockworthy in summer. And Biff’s pièce de résistance? The full body lunge across the lap. His trademark move pins me in my ergonomic chair until I am forced to upend him, in the manner of a large wheelbarrow, and take a few minutes off.
Then it’s time to play with an old sock, throw a tinkly ball down the garden, or simply say ‘squirrel’ very loudly, open the door and stand well back. Well, it keeps me happy.
In the real world, Biff goes by the modest monicker of Chester.
Ah. It’s time to go. Sixteen, no, 17 minutes after canine tea-time. Lottie, my other four-legged friend, is telling me it's dinner time for dogs.
Amazing I get anything written at all.