Oh hai. I can haz hometime? Well, no, because I have a ridiculous job and here comes another “I’m working at the weekend, what fresh hell is this?” post.

Here I sit, at 19.43 on a Friday night, waiting for a big boss to sign off a piece of paperwork for some filming tomorrow. To be fair, big boss is on her way to filming herself, on a train, and not gallavanting in a wine bar or reclining on the sofa, as any reasonable human being should be right now. So I can forgive.

And also to be fair, there is some amusement to be had from the night time goings-on in my office. Right now there is a briefing going on for a show being produced out of my department. “True love? How do you find it? How do you keep it?”, they are wondering out loud. Well, certainly not by working at 19.43- wait, 19.45 now- on a Friday night.

“Trainspotting!” they are now declaring. “Geeky anoraky hobbies! What is the appeal?”

“Miss and Mrs- apparently women are kicking off about it” (dubious snorts abound). 

And to continue to be fair, tonight we had the rare occasion of a Drinks Trolley in the office, because someone was leaving. So this post comes to you by way of a glass of cheap fizz and a beer.



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