I am very chuffed with my new desk. I have a window, sunlight, reception on my phone, which resolutely refused to see the network at my old desk, and a view of the ladies toilets, police college and drug users down on Broadwick Street. I’m also close to the drinks machine, but far enough away not to hear it whirring every time someone goes for a drink, and one floor above (and one below) the nearest chocolate machines, so there is less temptation.

I was late in yesterday morning on account of a two and a half hour struggle with the trains and tubes, and arrived in the office to find the rest of the team half unpacked already, so I tipped out my boxes and started stacking the few things I’d brought up with me while Systems fixed my broken email. I’m back in contact with the outside world again - and now have virus protection, too.

One thing I don’t have is the editor’s chair. Mid-morning, I was told it had been given to Dylan, who I used to work with when I started at the mag four and a half years ago. Actually, he was the one who interviewed me for the job, so I guess it’s him I have to thank for the fact I was even in the running in the first place.

I am disappointed, of course. It would have been great to have been editing a magazine I’ve worked on for so long, especially when it was promised by my then boss and his then boss when they took me out for lunch a year ago last September, but people and times change, and they have both left. The market is a lot tougher now and to be honest I think leading the magazine back then would have been a lot less daunting than it will be now.

I’m looking forward to Dylan starting in December so that we can share the workload.

I wandered home last night, sworn to secrecy until today and feeling a little disappointed still, past a saxophone man playing Christmas carols on Oxford Street. Closer to home, one of the houses down the road has already covered its porch in garish flashing Christmas lights.

It’s still November!

I got the rest of my desk more or less sorted out today, shoveling things in to cupboards in between editing dribs and drabs of group test. There was a sudden rush of companies with stories for this week’s show, so I booked them all in during lunch. A full two hours booked, two days before the show, has to be a record.

This evening I discovered that window seats are draughty, so taped up all the hinges and gaps I could find. I think things improved a bit, but it’s difficult to tell - the air conditioning seemed to react to the taping by pumping out a sudden shock of cold air at regular intervals for the rest of the afternoon.

Went to the gym on the way home, and arrived back at the flat to find a pack of rather lousy Christmas cards on the doormat from the people who draw with their feet and mouths. The deal (apparently) is that I either send them

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