Network Not work.
The old adage has it that moving house is almost as traumatic as death or divorce. I wonder if that applies to moving office as well? We have been moved for the third time in a year. As with all the other moves, our computers didn't work this morning. The IT department had tested the PC networks but had forgotten about us few Mac users. I guess I shouldn't really complain, as there are only ten of us in a building of 400 PC users.

I have been shunted down to the second floor; I miss my old fourth floor window view. I also miss my old position - back to the wall with no-one behind me to catch a glimpse of the decidedly non-work web sites I trawl. My monitor now faces a plate-glass-fronted office with an unknown boss-woman behind a desk.

As usual, no logic has been used in the rearrangement - the floor plan we saw before the move showed, reassuringly, that we production folk were sat next to the editorial staff. What it didn't show is that there is a wall between us. We are contemplating cutting a secret hatch in the wall, as discussing the magazine currently means getting up and walking all the way round to another section. I am actually sat among a bunch of strangers who deal with arcane legal and regulatory facts.