... or perhaps best not. Why is it that when you are in the middle of something quite technical, something will disturb you?
I thought I was onto a good thing when I was able to sit at my desk for more than 5 minutes without some dimwit PR ringing me up to ask: "Did you get the email I just sent you?", or "I sent you an email last week. Are you going to use the story?"
To excuse the Americanism.. "Like, if I wanted to use your dang story, I would have used it. Do you read the paper? Can you see your story anywhere? No? Well perhaps it was so wrist-slittingly dull that I didn't want to use it in case the entire City of London decided to go home and run a warm bath to rid themselves of the memory of it."
But I digress. The Mermaid of Moorgate should be able to be sensible and quiet and sit at my desk. Har Hardy Har Har. People here enjoy a bit of music, which I think is great, until someone plays a 1970s TV-theme tune style CD with a strong jazz and funk track.
Because then I need to get my groooooove on! I fought against the urge but found that I could not even type without getting into the rhythm. My foot started to tap. My head started to nod. Before long, I was vogue-ing it like Madonna (only very badly, I almost ended up strangling myself). I wiggled my hips like James Brown. I think I even did a slight spin. Only to realise I was the only person aware of the music. And certainly the only one desk-dancing.
I felt like a complete muppet.