If asked “What does working consist of?” we should quickly object that there was no general answer. Some sorts of work are done with some sorts of tools, others with other sorts. But sometimes the same work might be done with alternative tools. Some work does not require tools at all. The dancer uses her limbs, but her limbs are not implements. A headmaster might do his work though deprived of the use of his arms, or his legs or his eyes. Some sorts of work are done with special materials, like string or Carrara marble. But the work might be done with different materials, and some work does not require materials at all. An artist’s model need not even be attending to her work. She might be paid for sleeping or playing patience in the studio. There need be no action, inner or overt, performed by the policeman on his beat, which he may not also perform when strolling round the same streets when his work is over. Not all work is for pay; not all work is unpleasant; not all work is tiring. Nothing need be done, thought, or felt by the professional footballer at work, that might not be done, thought, or felt by the amateur at play. Work is a polymorphous concept. There is nothing which must be going on in one piece of work which need be going on in another. Nothing answers to the general description “what work consists of.”7 None the less, each specific job is describable. The workman can be told what he is to do. The concepts of fighting, trading, playing, housekeeping, and farming are also polymorphous concepts, where the concepts of boxing and apple-picking are nearly enough non-polymorphous.