I pulled myself together, put on my happy face, and bounced into the office. Said my hellos. Did a tea round. Then got sucked into a really intense conversation with Tabitha England-Plume, the features director, about her mum’s artisanal marmalade.
It was made from fruit grown in the orangery of their stately home and named—in acknowledgement of the fact that Tabs came from legit aristocracy—Lady Marmalade.
Finally, though, I made it to what had become my workspace. As was the Glamour way, it was clutter free except for a copy of Debrett’s, which I’m glad to say I’d never looked at. Not even when I was incredibly bored.
I logged into my email and got stuck in. And then began circling the issue of actual work.
There was this piece on microbags I was supposed to be writing copy for. Ex
