'Hi, I'm Jane, your editor. We spoke on the phone. You can
take this desk and here are a few press releases to be getting on with.'

Try and look as if you know what you're doing girl. If you can survive four weeks of TESOL, the odd press release can't be too hard. What on earth am I supposed to do with them? File them? File my nails with them?

Oh this is riveting stuff... The local bus museum's annual open
day and they're renovating an old Routemaster; how odd that fact should mirror fiction. Oh, even better, three new gardens are going to join in the yellow book. Why on earth would gardens need to be in the Yellow Pages? Oh, I see it's not Yellow Pages it's gardens open to the public for charity. Joy. I can just see the headlines Garden Gnome Birth Rate Soars.

So what's this one all about? Oh whoopee. The flower show is to have a new vegetable marquee this year. Anyone who grows vegetables at home or on allotments can enter into the prize vegetable competition. Utter bliss. As if we don't have enough problems getting in and out of the village when the flower show is on. Now we're going to have to do battle with mountains of marrow and pantechnicons of peas. And what exactly am I supposed to do with this lot?

Peter Parker over there looks as if he knows what he's doing, let's test the water.

'Hi I'm here on work experience, how about you?'

'Err oh hi, I'm Miles, day release from college.'

Fine. Brevity is the order of the day. I can do that... if I have to.

'What are you working on Miles?' Nice nonchalant touch, girl, well done.

'Press releases.'

This is like pulling teeth.

'What exactly are you doing with the press releases, Miles?'

'Well, turning them into stories of course. Can't get hold of half the people for interviews, though. It's always the same on Tuesdays.'

Hah! That's how it works! I can do stories. I can do interviews, that's just chat. Hold on - I can't do shorthand, though, can I? Never mind, they'll just have to talk slowly.

'How do you fancy doing an article on Acupuncture for the lifestyle section?'

Is she talking to me... or Miles? Oh s**t it's me.

'Sounds good. What do you want me to do?'

'Make an appointment with the new acupuncturist in the village and I'll get a photographer over. Lunchtime today will be fine, that'll give you time to finish the PRs.'

PRs? Oh she means the press releases. How can I finish them by lunchtime? I haven't got time to read them by lunchtime let alone interview people and write them. Still I suppose a nice cosy chat with an acupuncturist could be fun.

'Ask her what time the needles will be in and we'll send the photographer then.'

Needles? In? Oh my g*d she wants me to have b****y needles stuck in me!

'And tomorrow there's a four mile walk for health I thought you might like to cover. Fix up an interview with the woman who's organising it and you can talk while you walk. Oh, and there's a crisis with the blood banks, they need new donors. Get down there this afternoon and I'll send a photographer over.'

'That'll be when the needles are in, will it?'

'Yes. It's hardy worth covering if we don't have a blood shot. Oh and see if you can find out more about this magic bean that's being launched at the flower show. There's a story in there.'

It's a runner bean for g*d's sake. How can there be a scoop in a b****y runner bean?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dy Three

'Right, John how's the leader going?'

'OK. I can't get the councillor to give us a quote though. The election is in two weeks and he's going to sit on the fence until then.'

'Why doesn't that surprise me? Rachel how are you doing?'

'Good. I've covered the new shop opening in the village and I'm speaking to the Police about the Hells Angels' riot on the green.'

Oh this is exciting. Just like on telly with the editor drilling the reporters.

'And what about you? How are the pieces going? Any luck with the magic bean?'

Oh G*d, she's talking to me. My arm feels black and blue, I hate walking and I faint at the sight of blood.

'I've finished the piece on the bus museum, it's not terribly exciting.'

It's a bus museum, hardly the four horses. Send it over. Anything else?'

Sending it over' means you hit the button marked 'News Desk' and it ends up on the desk next to you, not even slightly glamorous - but it sounds so cutting edge.

'You can have the garden story and the walk by lunchtime. I've just got to add the quotes and I'm still trying to get hold of the co-ordinator for the gardens - she didn't want to be interviewed yesterday.'

'Did you interview the other two families?'

'Yes, they were lovely. Did you know that one of them is an artist?'

'Not relevant. Good though. If they've been interviewed the co-ordinator will call back - she won't miss the photo opportunity... good work. How's the bean story going?'

'I sent it over yesterday.'

See just the coolest! 'I sent it over yesterday!' I knew there was a bit of the Lois Lane in me.

'I'll check it out. Like the blood photo by the way. Do you always faint? It was great! We can do a follow up with the ambulance shot next week. How's the Acupuncture story going?'

'Well I've sort of approached it from a different tack. I'd like you to look it over when you've got time.'

'Miles what have you got for us?'

She obviously hasn't, time to look it over that is. Oh well, I'll send it over anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day Four

'Garden' story finished, 'Bus' story put to bed. 'Blood Donor' might even make the front page. Think that has more to do with the blood photo and the ambulance sirens than the writing of it. 'Magic Bean' turning into a serial. Apparently it wasn't called the magic bean originally and it hasn't actually undergone the tests... how DID she know there was a real story in it? I am impressed. Now it's two stories. Vegetables at the flower show and the never-ending saga of the b****y magic bean. Oh whoopee three more PRs, well at least I won't be bored.

'Do you fancy coming over here while I edit the acupuncture story?'

Uh Uh this sounds serious.

'It's good.'

A downpour of relief drowns me.

'Thank you.'

'I don't mean this story. I mean, your work, it's good. You should go to college. If you do that I might have a job for you, but you have to have shorthand.'

Why do I have a problem with this? I should be thrilled. If I go on yet another s*****g course at enormous expense I may, if there is a vacancy, be lucky enough to end up as the junior, junior antique.
No it's the I don't mean this story bit that rankles. The I don't mean this story had my heart and soul poured into it. OK I may have moved just slightly to the left of the prescribed formulaic writing style, but it had feeling for g*d's sake.

'What's wrong with the story?'

'First bit's fine. Good interview, nice local touches but then you moved away from the style.'

'I see.' Patently blind.

'Take this bit here for example'

'Next came the strip so she could check out the alignment of my back; thank heavens the underwear was clean if not matching.'

'Well it was, clean that is, and almost matching. I know it wasn't exactly 'designer' but...'

The volume of the silence deafens me.

'And you go on'

'Interestingly the needles didn't hurt at all until the
photographer arrived and knocked them with his lens as my big toe stuck itself firmly up his left nostril.'

'I thought it added a bit of reality. It really was up his left nostril. He was trying to get all the needles into the picture at once so he had to shoot it from the bottom of the bed and my toe sort of got in the way...'

She hits the delete button¹.

Hey ho.

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