When you live on the 3rd floor of an apartment building the news of a lift refurbishment programme is bitter-sweet. True, in six weeks’ time we’ll have a nice new lift to play with, but what are we going to do during the meantime? Well, the obvious answer is that we’ll have to use the stairs. Of course going out (down) is no problem, and ordinarily I’d welcome the brief enforced workout that coming home (up) each day will involve, but it’s not so easy when you’ve got bags and bags of shopping, or you’re coming in kitted out in full motorcycle leathers, helmet and boots, AND a bag of shopping. The other day I was at first amused and then mildly offended at the appearance of a chair on each landing. Do I look like I can’t get up three flights of stairs wtihout a sit-down? I”m not THAT fat/old! Of course the caretaker’s consideration was not really a veiled dig at my weight: our block has quite a few elderly residents and the chairs are no doubt there for their benefit, but nevertheless I look at the chairs on the way down each day and promise myself that on my return I’m going to bound athletically past them, just in case somebody spots me in the stairwell. What colour I turn and noises I may make upon closing my front door is MY business.