We follow protocols and procedures, whether or not we can remember who set them up, or why. It’s that point in the cycle for pier review, so we fill out the wrist assessment forms (mine is fine) and climb aboard the company charabanc to the fabled coast. After a century and a half, the iron columns are bearing up well and provide a home for all manner of creatures in a varied tidal habitat, while the gold-topped pleasure pavilion glints like the eye of a more elegant age, peering back at us as we type notes for detailed reports that will never be read. All things considered, it’s performing better than anyone could have predicted after the slump at the end of the last century, but the form demands actions for innovation and growth, so we brainstorm on the bus back to the office. Maybe it could pivot to a landing strip for foreign bombers? Maybe it could burn down for the insurance? It doesn’t matter, so long as forms are filled, boxes ticked. My wrist aches from tapping in the data.
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Oz Hardwick
Picture Nick Victor
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