Well, I’ve spent all week working on a campaign leaflet thingy and being ceaselessly bothered and harassed by the design department who’ve kept demanding it earlier, even though it was impossible to it do that fast. I even took it home, and worked on it in the evenings, which is unheard-of for me. (Mirabelle jumped on my computer keyboard and pressed the wrong keys – just to rack up the tension.) And in the end I had to hand it back before I could do it half as well as I wanted to AND no one even said thank you for all the extra work I did. It left me feeling so let down. Like that famous remark someone once made about working for the BBC, that it made you feel like a mushroom: kept in the dark and with sh*t dumped on you at regular intervals. Really, work is getting so stressful now. Every one is in a state all the time. The designers were almost in tears yesterday.
Just as a sort of relief, because I felt so let down, I spent the early evening doing my hair and make-up and choosing an understated outfit. (Black, of course, plus some amazing gladiator shoes that I can hardly walk in, and cost far too much.) Then I tottered off round to see if Michael was in, and I could have a chat with him. His house was in darkness, and as I got closer I saw a For Sale board outside it.
Anyhoo, I’ve rung his number a few times since then, and I’ve only got the answerphone, so I don’t know what could have happened to him.
