Waiting. To. Go. Home.

Having arrived here at 7.20am I am now awaiting a call from a friend saying they can give me a lift home. It's been a looooong day, thanks mainly to a train strike which means there was one train going into work the whole day (at 7.07am) and one going back (at, er, 9.53pm). Thank god I didn't have to wait for that one.

I used to be very involved in my student union while I was at uni and even joined the student NUJ when I was studying to become a journalist (but not since I joined the paper - they don't like it or recognise it). Lately i have become a bit more (okay, a lot more) apathetic. I went on the big anti war demonstration (and enjoyed a happy evening in a wine bar with my friends afterwards in typical bourgeois style) and I have links with my local anti war group, but apart from that I don't do much now. And I must admit to thinking very uncharitable thoughts about the striking RMT bods when my alarm went off at ridiculous o'clock. Although they are striking for our health and safety (I think). I do think the firefighters deserve more cash though.

My SO is still as radical as when we met at university, in fact he was busy out giving a speech to a socialist meeting last night... while I was at home watching TV and eating yorkshire pudding (it was that kind of a night!). Hence, in fact, the name of this blog - once in an argument he called me a media spiv. Despite the fact that the paper I work for is (a) local and (b) responsible he still thinks at times that we stitch people up to get stories. Which isn't true because (a) you can't crap on your doorstep because if you do you'll never get a second story from someone and (b) this is local news and not as cutthroat as working on a slimy tabloid. And we don't loiter outside people's houses either.

Ok. I have once. But that's it. And it was a special case.