Anyone old enough to remember Paul Hogan’s Crocodile Dundee movies (Crocodile Dundee (1986), Crocodile Dundee II (1988); Crocodile Dundee in Los Angeles (2001); The Very Excellent Mr Dundee (2020) (Ed.)) will be familiar with the concept of a walkabout.  Crocodile Dundee’s walkabouts tended to be quite extreme affairs, sometimes spanning months or years, often crossing continents.  My own office equivalents are rather more modest in comparison, but they spring from the same origin: the need to up and off; have a change from routine; break out of the familiar rut.

Some of my colleagues seem rooted to their desks, barely moving all day long, fixed in the same position, staring into the bleak abyss of their computer screen.  In contrast, I am a positive jack-in-the-box.  I can’t sit still at my desk for longer than half an hour at any one time.

Some of my walkabouts are essential trips: quick visits to the toilet; or to get a cup of coffee.  Then there are the medium-length excursions, with the deliberate aim to get a bit of exercise.  But then there are the proper walkabouts, designed to see just how long and how far I can roam from my desk without attention being drawn to my absence.

Hour stretches into two-hour, until I begin to wonder if it is even worthwhile reporting for duty in the first place.  Sometimes, first thing in the morning, as I wait for my commuter train, anther train stops at my station heading in the opposite direction, bound for Edinburgh.  What if I just got on that?  Forget work for the day.  Spend a day in Scotland instead.  That would be a proper walkabout that even Crocodile Dundee might feel proud of.

But what then?  What would they say back at the office?

The fact is, I don’t think anyone in the office would notice that I was missing.

Or care.

© Simon Turner-Tree

Simon Turner-Tree is more like the Invisible Man than Crocodile Dundee.