When pigs fly.
Sometimes I wonder about the boss. All he seems to think about is work. In fact I am beginning to worry about him, I think he may be overdoing it.
It occurred to me as I drove home the other night that what the boss needed was some light relief, something to take his mind off the business. Just then, my attention was drawn to the radio where a man with a wonderful thick country accent was extolling the virtue of motorway sculptures. It was close to the end of the piece, but the gist of the story was that people were objecting to a flying black pig which was to be suspended over a Co. Monaghan motorway.
The pig was to be created by a local artist as part of a scheme in which a certain amount of money is alloted to provide art on new motorways. The man was fully in favour of the pig but it seemed local politicians thought it was a dreadful waste of money, especially in the current hair-shirt climate.
Unfortunately I didn't catch the man's name but I instantly liked his voice which most definitely conveyed a sense of fun. His main arguments were, if the money wasn't spent on the pig it would most certainly be spent outside the county. More importantly, in these trying times, people needed flying pigs over the motorway more than ever, and after all, the flying pig in question was based on local folklore. I knew instantly that this man was right. If the boss were to see a flying pig on a daily basis as he drove to and from work, he would be a much happier man. What the boss needed was an intrusion of art, a distraction of fun, a flight of fantasy.
