Sell, sell, sell

I was up at an ungodly hour (7.30am) as I had to go to and give a company a presentation on an idea I have for Christmas marketing. It went well and, if the costs work out, it could take me one step nearer to global domination of the advent calendar market. Oh, yes. It shall be mine.

It struck me was how nice it would be to have a job involving chitty-chat meetings and brainstorming sessions where everyone compliments each other's ideas. A bit how I imagine people who are 'in PR' spend their time before their champagne-quaffing, coke-snorting lunches..

My normal day consists of waiting to be told what to do, doing it, and then criticised for not doing it how someone else would do it . And to cap it all, we aren't allowed to have the blinds open because of the 'reflections on our screens'. I suspect this is so we can't see the world outside and be lured away by its urban temptations.

But getting up early afforded me an interesting insight into the life of morning people. I saw abseiling window cleaners dangling on the new Barclay's tower in Canary Wharf, a one-legged canoe instructor and a geriatric Hasidic Jew leading a group of Japanese pensioners onto the DLR.

There were also lots of women who were old enough to know better wearing the miniest of mini-skirts and knee-length, tassled suede boots.