under the blanket

It is good to be back in a proper newsroom again.

Started my two-week internship [they call it "work experience" here] at The Independent yesterday, and I feel quite at home already. There is something so familiar about the urgent hush, the clickety clack of keyboards, the TV screens with CNN droning at too low a volume, the glass boxes that the editors sit in, the messy piles of news releases, the stacks of yellowed newspapers for references, even the same surreptitious glances when you walk around the open-plan office as the new girl. So I avoid going to the loo too often.

Just eavesdropped on the slightly snooty journo next to me, who fobbed off an unwanted caller with the universal brush-off: "Why don't you send me a press release and I will get back to you [which of course I will not, because I am not interested, you dim-witted PR twit]?" His desk, by the way, can rival the legendary Magdalene Lum's, meaning it can't be seen, and loud noises will trigger off an avalanche of papers and envelopes.

I feel so at home here that I have given up all pretence of work on my second day here and already am flagrantly checking Hotmail and blogging. Even though I have been given a small story to do, I am just sitting on my ass. This is just like in those bad old days at work, when a Friday deadline seems so far away that I can't help but procrastinate. The routine of trawling through archived stories and looking for the right person to talk to is all coming back to me, in quite an unwelcome sort of way, and makes me question: "Why am I doing this? I'm too old to be an eager beaver intern all over again!"

I know I should be more pro-active [gosh, I am so the direct opposite of "pro-active" and I so hate that word] and this could be my only chance of a job here, but I used up all my enthusiasm yesterday introducing myself to everyone while smiling most ingratiatingly.

Five minutes ago, with immense amount of willpower, I mustered up the strength to pick up the phone to a potential interviewee. I think that's enough work done for the afternoon. I am truly incorrigible.