Marged Saunders

Who: Marged Saunders
Where: outside the Shatterdome
When: Mid-morning
Open to: Anyone!

Marged, bundled up in woolly hat, coat and several layers of scarves and fingerless gloves, was kicking a football she'd found against the wall of the Shatterdome. KODIAK was painted above her in large, yellow letters: she was using the space between the two lower branches of the K as a kind of goal. Expertly, she dribbled the ball around some small rocks on the concrete, blonde hair waving in the wind, and gave the ball an almighty boot into the wall.

"Goal!" she cheered, throwing both hands up into the air. "The crowd goes wild!"

Perched on a rock a few feet away, a lone seagull eyed her balefully. 

Who: Marged and Colin
When: Morning
Where: LOCCENT
Warnings/Rating: none

 There's nothing quite like the smell of a shiny new LOCCENT: or at least, nobody knew if there was, because there weren't that many of them yet. The room smelled like plastic, floor polish, and ozone, with a faint whiff of hairspray from Marged. She crouched over a computer, bitten nails with pink polish chipped off tapping at the keys, headset resting around her neck.

"Come on, you bugger."

She struck a couple of keys extra hard and rattled a string of angry Welsh at it.

"What the flaming hell have I done wrong this time?"