A quiet day. Thus far, the highlight has been two veggie spring rolls that mother foisted on me. My PR friends still haven't sorted out the Busted tix, which could well be a blessing, although I will be going psycho at 3pm down the telephone. I have entertained myself for part of the afternoon by emailing replies to those irritating PR companies that mail press releases containing stuff that we wouldn't be able to use in a million years but still insist on following up with a telephone call asking us when we're going to use 'em. We have been informed that the reporting staff on the low-budget weekly I work on will be reduced by one as of January and the unhinged freelance snapper will also have to go, which is great news, obviously, as there's nothing that boosts morale quite like reducing a team to the bare minimum. I was asked my opinion of the staff moves. I was very mature in my response. "Whatever," I think I said, before explaining that, for once, I didn't have an opinion. My indifference to this job is quite alarming. Four years ago I was quite a keen member of staff who contributed to every publication that left the building. What went wrong? Oh, I know, it goes, "talent overlooked". Repeatedly. And pushed into a box it doesn't fit. Ooh, can't you tell it's the end of the week?
News just in: Busted tix are sorted. Oddly enough, bang on 3pm. Are they reading this blog? What a sour note to end the week on!
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