The wrong 650 words.

There was going to be... an intention existed... this was the plan... that the blog post of the day... was going to be 650 words in length and planted amongst the blog posts at that 'History Matters day' collection of other blog posts with a view to elucidating the reading public of the year 2347 about the daily ongoings of a small and unfunded and strangely noble but not entirely hapless publishing company. But I just ambled over there and it turned out to be mostly schoolchildren talking about breakfast cereal, and I'm not entirely sure that's what the reading public of the year 2347 are going to be interested in reading. Or maybe the schoolchildren know better than me, but either way we're scuppered, because our working day simply did not involve breakfast cereal. A flapjack came into play at one point. A flapjack with seven unique e-numbers and a flapjack the consumption of which I would have no willing part in. But not breakfast cereal. Though I could, as it happens, seriously demolish some cornflakes.

Mostly we databased, in the new office to which we have recently repaired. I am still settling into the new office, personally, having spent a week at home coughing and inhaling lemsip. We live in a partitioned-off section at the end of a biggish suite. We are quite cut off. We can observe the enemy through cleverly positioned holes in the partition. Really there is no enemy, but pretending so makes the afternoons pass more swiftly. I mean the afternoons when we're databasing. Not when we're reading your delightful work. I'm not being sarcastic. I actually mean that. No, I mean that bit too. Everything looks so sarcastic without exclamation marks, and so cheap with them. What to do?

I wish I had a bassoon. I was thinking what fun it would be to sit behind the partition and randomly blow through a bassoon, and no-one on the other side would have the faintest idea what I'd done. They'd think I have magic lungs.

We get the proofs for the poetry book ('Razzamatazz and Other Poems') back tomorrow, with any luck. And we're currently in the process of sculpting the Short Short Story Competition Anthology (which is to be called 'The Final Theory and Other Short Short Stories'). I'm not sure if the two Others should be capitalised or not. Bear with me. And we databased like woah. We printed off envelopes, and sometimes we printed them the right way up. A special bonus prize to anyone who receives an upside down envelope from us will not actually be offered, because I don't think I have that kind of jurisdiction. But still, it's a nice idea.

And like I say, we didn't eat much in the way of cereal. Tomorrow I'm going to have crumpets for breakfast. Still nothing will be solved.

I hope posterity gets something out of it all the same.

Sam.