Then as we're having a vague and rambly conversation about something in the news, and it's almost feeling like civilisation again despite the apocalyptic thunder and rainstorms outside, the near-colleague who shouts and mutters and slams things down on desks in the corner all the time like a child trying to get attention came over and chipped in to one of our conversations loudly and rudely with "I DON'T KNOW, I MEAN, WHAT'S THE WORLD COMING TO." I put my head down on my desk in despair just as the Big Boss wanders in on one of his occasional walkabouts. Timing, there, marvellous. He, though, being one of the few actual grown-ups in the office, didn't say a thing; just carried on with the meet-and-greet strategy.
But then on the way past the Big Boss's office just now, he calls out "How's it going, Janet?" -- so I stop at his doorway and say something obvious like "Fine, fine, not looking forward to getting rained on when I cycle home, ah-ha-ha-ha," as you do, and as we're shooting the breeze about the thunder and lightning, I realise that I can see the most amazing rainbow from his office window, and I exclaim at it out loud before I remember I'm supposed to be a grown-up too. "Come in and have a proper look, if you want," he says, so I go and stare out of the window at the window, not quite pressing my nose up against the window but close. We exchange the obligatory swan-fact about how you can see the complete circle from a plane, but it's half-hearted; mostly he's just slowly tidying his desk before the end of the day, and I'm wishing I had my camera to photograph the rainbow arching out into the sky over the single tree outside that's a blaze of reds and oranges. "I'm a big fan of rainbows," the Big Boss says, as if he's sharing a secret.
When I pass his office again a few minutes later he's shrugging into his huge overcoat, and he looks tired and old, and I remember he's retiring soon, and I wish I had a spare rainbow to leave on his desk for tomorrow morning.