I had breakfast the other day at a swanky London brasserie with a man I recently met at a conference.
I sauntered into the office some time after 10am, stuffed with eggs benedict, and switched on my computer. Having checked a few emails and scrolled through Twitter, I headed to the office kitchen for a cup of tea, where I bumped into a colleague who agreed it was good to see that the moody hot water boiler was not on the blink.
Then I started chatting with another colleague about a film we had both seen starring Willem Dafoe, which we thought was brilliant but a bit depressing. Eventually, I sat down to write something.
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