Tired eyes on the 6am work shift.

It’s has got to the stage where we have channels for channels. My MacBook is one giant notification centre coming at me from all angles.

I rather like all the activity when I am buzzing off my tits mid-afternoon on PG Tips.

But it was a a bit of a rude awakening early on Thursday morning.

When I finally came to my senses I realised that I was stranded.

The one road in, one road out in the bloody Estuary Wilds was blocked.

No worries – I don’t drive and had no reason to leave; apart from my desire to leave…

The issue was the basics of bread and milk. It didn’t help that the road appeared to be blocked by a lorry delivering supplies.

It looks like I am existing on UHT milk for the next couple of days.

The texts started to drop from S Ldn schools around 8am:


Enjoy your #SnowDay kids.

And staff.

By 8:05am the SE17 school site had already had 1,500+ page impressions. It would double this before the day was out.

Who’s Afraid of the Art of Noise was my rather unusual choice of listening to silence out the notifications.

This took me back to working a paper round back in the Fair City around ’84. I use to walk the mean streets of NG12 with an Art of Noise cassette single in my Walkman.

The mode of production may have changed, but the means most certainly haven’t, Comrades.

Mid-morning meant @RobertElms.

He needed another addition to the Ldn Playlist.

There was no shame in choosing Wake Me Up Before You Go Go.

George was a right old Ldn boy back in the day.

An invitation for another new work project came my way. I was both flattered and surprised.

It was looking like a very lean start to the year a month or so ago. I’m now feeling slightly more optimistic.

I watched the City Hall stream early afternoon. Boris Johnson had been summoned back to his former workplace to try and justify his Garden Bridge decisions.

It was shameless stuff.

I had an hour and a half work free window late afternoon. It looked like the blizzard outside had calmed down.

I went out for a walk along the estuary.

Fifteen minutes later and I was almost blown back to base.

That was BRUTAL.


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My finger was barely able to operate the shutter button on my camera.

An evening of work followed, sandwiched in with the Arsenal match.

I couldn’t load up Arsenal Fan TV fast enough at the final whistle.


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