Well, having left my desk at 11.50 to avoid the crowds of chill cabinet cruisers all searching for that Holy Grail of a reasonably priced (hell, CHEAP) sandwich in London's West End. Luckily, the credit crunch has led to a credit munch range of truly shit sandwiches in Tesco metro. Point is, I purchased the sandwich, had it opened but untouched on my desk whilst doing some personal banking (not rhyming slang) - unopened allows you to tut and say "I'm on lunch" if anyone approaches with work. Wouldn't recommend this as an eight hour thing though, then I ate it (slowly) whilst reading online news, then it's off for a fag, back to desk and settling down to write this. A resounding one hour and thirty two minutes since I "started" my lunch hour. The other secretaries scarpered as soon as I got to the "sandwich unwrapped on desk" stage. They may not be back til Tuesday. Dam, I've given myself the fear. Time to get back to work, but first to find out who is the psychopath eating boiled onions for lunch. He stinks.
Keep lunching
Seccypa
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