Boss has rung four times so far from the train to Newcastle. He dictated three letters, an attendance note, and two memos, none of which appear remotely connected with work, and all of which he will probably have forgotten about when he comes into the office tomorrow.

I do wish the fee earners would be prompt about seeing their clients, instead of allowing them to loiter about, chatting to me for what seems like hours on end. This morning, whilst Boss was grabbing my attention every thirty minutes on the 'phone, an extremely grubby man, wearing soiled clothes that smelled sour, and with a can of White Lightning sticking out of his pocket, strolled in for an appointment he had to see JKR. He had hair down to his shoulders, which appeared to have bits of foodstuff matted in it. He sat down and sniffed loudly every twenty seconds. Although I told JKR as soon as he came in, he didn 't come and collect him for a full eighteen minutes (yes, I was counting). "Well thank goodness for that," I said, "Mr X had a crew cut when he arrived!"

It's almost the middle of the working week. Hip, hip..........