Where do they go at the end of the day?

WHAT about going to the lavatory?

That’s not the only issue, but it’s a significant one.

There’s also: how do they get their food; where do they sleep; do they have wives and families?

I mean, lighthouse keepers had at least the basics, like an armchair and a bed. Sure, the rooms never had any corners and sleeping must have been tricky with the light going off and on, off an on, all night; but at least they could get out and walk about a bit and have a pee into the ocean, so long as they didn’t do it to windward.

But if you work in crane that’s not an option.

I have worked it out, though. They’re time travellers. It’s the only answer.

Since this issue began to interest me I have studied cranes. I’m talking about those tall ones that pierce the clouds, with the gantry than spans three block and that never — or hardly ever — fall over, even though they look as though they should.

I have watched them closely, and I will tell you something that very few people know…

No one ever climbs up; no one ever climbs down.

Have you ever seen them do it? No; because they don’t. Have you ever met someone in a pub who said: “I’m one of those blokes who drive those big cranes”?

I mean, they’d have to drink somewhere, wouldn’t they? Someone must’ve bumped into them.

Unless they’re time travellers who do their drinking several million light years down the road.

This is why there are no hermits in the world any more. You remember back in the old days, when hermits could be found in lonely caves and you had to hike into the Himalayas if you wanted a chat with them about the meaning of life, the universe and everything?

Well, the caves are all empty. The hermits have all found cranes to live in, and they’ve finally solved the problem of life, the universe and everything, which is why they’re able to nip off into a fourth dimension for a pee or a sandwich or a chat with the Mrs.

It must be that. The alternatives are too horrible to contemplate: do they wear those 21st century nappies, like astronauts; or do they just have very strong bladders? It’s probably in the job description. “Must have the muscle control of a King’s Cross pole dancer…”

Or maybe they just have a hole in the floor. It used to be good enough for our forefathers in the outside dunny. Mind you, they weren’t 200 feet off the ground. You remember those occasions when you’ve felt that rogue spot of rain out of cloudless sky and thought: “How curious! Maybe it was just a mere speck of dust”

Think again. They must have some respite up there from the unremitting boredom of watching the world go by.

Actually, I doubt it is boring. It must feel a bit like being God. Especially when you’ve just lifted several tonnes of steel girders off the ground and you’re faced with a lever that’s marked; “Fast” or “Spin”.

But even God had a rest. Only once a week, I recall, on Sundays; but that’s better than nothing. You can’t rest in a glass cubicle that’s hardly big enough to stretch your arms out.

No, the only rational solution is time travel. It’s like Sherlock Holmes said: “When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

And if they’re time travellers then… think about it… if you had the technology to travel through time would you be content to sit for eight hours every day shifting bits of steel about?

They’re up to something!

I don’t think they’re building tower blocks at all.

I think they’re building battery farms.

But not for chickens.