I suppose this was the week when my new world took off. The pace of production on the magazine has stepped up considerably and we've started pushing lots of copy and pictures through to the typesetters.
It's something of an inexact science at the moment,but Tom and I are both finding our feet.
First, on Monday, it was back to Lichfield to talk to landlords and leave business cards. It may have only produced a free pint of Golden Glow and a spectacularly good Packington pork pie (with English mustard on the side) but all the best businesses started somewhere, didn't they?
From Tuesday to Thursday, it's been hard but rewarding work. Ploughing through contributed copy, cursing my own computer slip-ups, hunched over the keyboard while Muffin, our wonderful half-Maine Coon cat, stares at me from his red bed, seemingly wishing I'd clear off and let him sleep. I've been so tired at the end of the day that I've been crashing into bed at 10pm, yet still not sleeping. And Carmel still thinks I'm sitting here all day watching daytime television.
Do other 'workers from home' find this? It's not a major problem and I know where I'd rather be, but it's taking some getting used to.
Then today, two small steps for mankind. The phone rings. A well-known national football magazine have been pointed in my direction by a former colleague. They want 800 words on Sullivan/Gold/Brady and West 'Am United by next Friday. And they'll pay me for it.
Shortly after, the inbox pings. Another former colleague has been doing some Google searching and wants to know about the magazine. I've got to go back to Funlop next Friday for a final farewell drink. I'll tell him then.
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