I’m helping a client with his meat and two veg.

It seems like I spend half my time on texts these days. And then Sylvester will send something stupid like the text he’s just sent me.

Really, I’m running between meetings, trying to keep my hair nice, checking out the new boy in the post room (yes, we still have one) and helping one of the senior partners arrange his meat and two veg. Oh, I should explain Bernard is doing a shoot for a client who has a string of restaurants, and we have to photograph some of the food for the advertisement. I can’t’ tell you much about it as it’s not yet been released, but jeez, you should see the size of the client’s sausage.

And then I get a string of texts from Sylvester.

• Sylvester: …by the way Fiona, I want to tell you something.
• Myself: ?
• Sylvester: Did you hear about the explosion?
• Myself: What?
• Sylvester: Yes. I’ve been showered in letters.
• Myself: What are you blabbering about?
• Sylvester: Since the explosion at the Scrabble factory.
• Myself: I suppose you think that’s funny.