International Women's Day, 8 March 2005

A happy Women's Day to all the women reading this.

The first thing a newcomer notices is the flower trade. From the sixth of March the pavements fill with stalls, and by the eighth every man on the metro is carrying something wrapped in cellophane, held slightly away from the body so it does not get crushed.

Inside an office the day has its own choreography: the men arrive early, arrange everything badly, and the women pretend to be surprised. It is not a subtle ritual and nobody wants it to be.

What I would add is only this. The women I work with here carry a workload that would be considered unreasonable anywhere — professional, domestic, and administrative all at once, usually without much acknowledgement on the other three hundred and sixty-four days.

So: flowers today, and my genuine respect the rest of the year.