Friday 25 June 2010

Summer, novels and cellulite

It’s difficult enough to motivate myself when it’s cold and there’s no other option but to stay inside and work, but all this lovely sunshine is creating problems for my deadlines. I mean, I could work at an outdoor table, if there was an outlet for my laptop. I could bring a spare battery for my laptop, I suppose, but once I’ve loaded by bag with pastries, er . . . suncream, sunglasses and newspaper, it’s so heavy that I need one of those ditty little Ikea trolleys to drag it around. By the way, in case you are wondering, I am one of those people who buy a coffee and sit in a café, then sneakily consume cheaper, taster fare from elsewhere where the baristas aren’t looking. Come on, don’t judge me - I work in publishing, for god’s sake! Besides, last I looked, macaroons et al are in short supply at those generic cafés around London.
So, with the Marrying Out of Money deadline looming, I need someone to come and tie me to a desk, preferably in a dark closet with no tempting sunshine to distract me.
And before I get a mail from that guy with hair lip, limp and questionable morals, not you! But I am available for a date at that café by the Serpentine if you’re paying.

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Friday 25 June 2010

Summer, novels and cellulite

It’s difficult enough to motivate myself when it’s cold and there’s no other option but to stay inside and work, but all this lovely sunshine is creating problems for my deadlines. I mean, I could work at an outdoor table, if there was an outlet for my laptop. I could bring a spare battery for my laptop, I suppose, but once I’ve loaded by bag with pastries, er . . . suncream, sunglasses and newspaper, it’s so heavy that I need one of those ditty little Ikea trolleys to drag it around. By the way, in case you are wondering, I am one of those people who buy a coffee and sit in a café, then sneakily consume cheaper, taster fare from elsewhere where the baristas aren’t looking. Come on, don’t judge me - I work in publishing, for god’s sake! Besides, last I looked, macaroons et al are in short supply at those generic cafés around London.
So, with the Marrying Out of Money deadline looming, I need someone to come and tie me to a desk, preferably in a dark closet with no tempting sunshine to distract me.
And before I get a mail from that guy with hair lip, limp and questionable morals, not you! But I am available for a date at that café by the Serpentine if you’re paying.

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