Sitting in the office, working late. My Own fault really (well, I blame Abbey, but that is another story)
Faithless is playing, and here I am hacking away at some code (as it happens) and suddenly i realise that what this office really needs is a bar down stairs. It feels later than the time it is, and I wonder if a pint of Youngs would be a nice accompaniment to my last can of coke from my drawer.
The tea, whilst effectively on tap courtesy of my employer is not the right kind of tea.
I am sure the exercise over the next few weeks as myself and Vicki move into our new home will blow out the cobwebs. So to speak.
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