25 January 2013

ASCENDANCY.

Disclaimer: The views expressed here are solely those of the author in his private capacity and do not in any way represent the views of PMA, or any other entity of the Press Association. It should be quite obvious that the Keith and Roberta have not approved, endorsed, embraced, friended, liked, tweeted or authorized this post.

Media Law felt like looking at a 'Where's Wally' book. Swathes of information on the page, and we had to pick out a fundamental flaw that would throw the entire article into legal jeopardy. Where is it? 

Furthermore, where am I?

The fourth floor, of course. We're big dogs now; we take the elevator upstairs, don'tchaknow. Travelling to the bottom floor for a toilet break, ten pence coffee or an opportunity to ask the security guard, "what's the score, mate?" will require a strenuous amount of effort in the coming weeks. First world problems.

 I'm still Eddy from the block, so I ventured down to peer with watery puppy eyes at our old room on the ground floor. A strange man was thrusting a skip back and forth with devilish glee, throwing pairs of gloves, full books and complete Mac setups into what I'm certain was a roaring furnace within the bin. Black smoke arose from the flames and mingled with his icy white breath. He rubbed his hands together and cackled, gargling maniacally, the echoes of his voice travelling through the corridors much like that smell of putrid mackerel from yesterday's microwave incident. I can't decide which I'd rather have follow me home.

I stood there helpless, watching our tables become rearranged into a cold, impersonal layout. They were spread far and wide, and though chairs surrounded each one they were themselves turned inwards, away from the rest of the room. We did things differently: James' chair didn't even slot into a seating plan, more a gap created by the joining of two tabletops. Mavericks to the end, were the PMAers.

A silver tear rolled down my cheek as the memories of our first room slipped from memory. There was the spot where Matt spilled his Coke can. There was the spot where Richard first told us about Dit Dits. And who could forget the time Dan scored seven points on the news quiz? Haha, classic.

 Incidentally, I've been thinking of ways to break into our new office - not literally - and it's led to extensive research on how various species of animals go about marking their turf. Look.. I'm saying if we all do it at the same time there's no chance of us all getting into trouble?

 Well, I'm off to make a stir fry and mull over defamation/breach of contract/privacy/coping with loss. As a final note, I'd like to extend gratitude to my PMA chums for naming me Features Editor. I believe my duties involve making a list, checking it twice, finding out who's been naughty or nice... then handing it to the Editor for approval.

  

  

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