I am on the verge of booking a four-foot chocolate fountain for a work event.

Seriously.

Some days this job is not half bad!

It's sunny yet somehow freezing, completely defeating the object of the summer exercise thing. Stop it.

My dress keeps clinging to my tights when I walk, ruining its line and generally flashing more of my legs than I intended. I shall no doubt be moaning about the static shocks later.

The cleaner has left the window of my office open so it's freezing in here as well as out there.

My feet ache from attempting to wear ladylike shoes due to 'that lunch meeting' today.

A bit of my gum is sore so in the back of my mind I'm quietly obsessing that my teeth are going to fall out.

I am cold. Did I mention that?

Meh! Pah! Meh!

Actually... argh!!!!

Working on the ticket barriers at train stations can't be the most fulfilling job in the world.

But there is no excuse for being rude - certainly not at 7am.

There's one ticket man at Bolton who can't see properly and so points at your ticket to help focus his eyes which ruffles my feathers slightly because it looks like he is glaring and, worse, pointing. I do not like being pointed at.

But this morning I got told off at Oxford Road for not going to the right barrier to be let through with my pass.

Now he was something of a dollop so he should have been easy for me to see, I know, but they will insist in dressing them in navy, which makes them virtually invisible against a sea of commuters and it was 7am. I hardly had my eyes open.

I apologised and replied I couldn't see him (and refrained from adding 'inspite of the fact you're carrying far more weight than is healthy, ticket boy.')

But oooh, he's put me in a right mood.