I worked with Davros tonight. We made it out to be the first time we'd shared an evening shift since the dawn of time or 2001 or something like that.
Back then Billy would be in and the lads would sellotape computers and chairs together while I'd look on, curious and irritated. They'd practice keepy-uppys, I'd watch, envious and irritated. They'd squabble and shout and go smoking, I'd sit quietly at my desk and try to figure out this sports journalism lark.
That was then.
Tonight we barely spoke, too fixated on not fucking up. There was the odd touch of gallows humour but mostly we just sat, typed, updated and tutted at the technology. Not a hacky sack in sight.
Back then I wouldn't have made the mistake. This evening I think my subconscious compelled me to it.