Things I totally didn’t miss about working in an office when I didn’t work in an office: people who thrive on being in a constant state of stress, and try to project their stress onto everyone around them. One of my visiting contractors asked me today: “everyone looks so miserable, all scowling and stuff. Is this a really terrible place to work?” And I told him it’s really not (because it isn’t) and just about everyone’s really nice (because they are) but that due to the unique way in which one of the best-regarded universities in the world is managed, the department’s in a permanent state of snafu and most people are so absorbed in their own crap that, like, half the people I work with think my name is Amy NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES I SIGN EMAILS WITH MY NAME OR SAY MY NAME WHEN I ANSWER THE PHONE. But! I mostly don’t stress about any of these things and just knit when there’s nothing to do. Today I finished a new scarf!

But I’m miffy that there’s no sink in my new office and nobody seems to have noticed this but me and I don’t want to kick up a fuss about it BUT MY THERMOS WILL DEVELOP A TEA-FLAVOURED PATINA IF I CAN’T CLEAN IT SHORTLY AFTER USE and the last thing I want is the heady aroma of lapsang souchong permeating every other tea that ever goes in that blasted thing. And yes, I know it’s made of stainless steel and shouldn’t hold flavours but it has a flavour memory, I’m telling you! And tea is too precious to me to let all the flavours merge into one vague metallic blob. No sir. My tea and I deserve better. GRUMP. I want my sink back.

Oh yeah and Eight is still ridiculously tasty and sweet and fills me with such joy and delight. Cherry and apricot and almond are such good friends. Oh FEELINGS. FEEEEEEEELINGS.

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My Time Lord name is the Brewmaster. Currently working on People Of Who, an exhibition of portraits of the people who made Doctor Who happen. Professional dilettante. Literary enthusiast, frustrated sometime writer. Knitter of things.


Probably a small grey sofa in Oxford



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