In the portacabin that stands as works office, Sam Callaghan, the site foreman, wears a satisfied smile. The work’s going well. Thanks to rapidly improving weather, the ground’s drying up nicely so we’re both ahead of schedule and under-budget.
and“It’s looking good,” beams Sam as the kettle hisses steam. He offers up a mug. “Coffee before you go?”
I eye the mug, along with its companions, ancient, chipped, and stained, stacked by the stainless-steel basin. Boiling water is all that stands between any potential drinker and the thriving ecoculture lurking in the bowels of any mug, cup, or beaker occupying that drainer.
“Thanks, but no. I need to get back to the office. Can you send me the revised materials and labour schedules this afternoon?”
“No problem, James. See you around.” He giv
