Weak End

Getting up every morning at five o’clock wasn’t the problem I thought it would be. Reminding myself the night before that I had to be up at five each morning was. Midweek I’d find myself still at the computer, catching the end of Newsnight before realising I should already be in bed.

An hour later, up here on the northern edge of London, the streets remained preternaturally quiet to what I was used to. In the cloudless sky, already tinged with the faintest pre-dawn light, Venus shone hard and bright above the horizon.

The early start was down to a training schedule for a new job. That, coupled with the influx of work from the pharmaceutical companies, means Work Buddy and I have the opportunity to – as he put it – "suck hard on their money cock" and make a relatively obscene amount of hard cash.

Just before taking on the work I turned down the offer to write for this new magazine. The people were nice but their word rate was startlingly pathetic – half what I was getting in the past. Until I’ve properly settled into the work, spare time is probably going to be a luxury. I’m already behind on two projects as it is. I want to write, uninspired magazine articles don’t factor into that equation.

Speaking on frittering away precious time, I spent two hours that I’ll never get back watching Sunshine. Maybe I missed something, but was that it?