Here's a picture of another of my favourite workplacesThis structure was never going to win any awards for architectural endeavour, but there are loads of bright, artistic types, beavering away inside. This is where I go to record words of wisdom about Art, for audio guides to museums and art galleries. It's a job I love doing, produced by some of the nicest people you could ever hope to work with.
But there's one injustice, niggling away at me.
This crumbling edifice has a glorious past. Once upon a time, it was the mighty Peak Freans Biscuit Factory. For decades, the (custard) cream of British biscuit-making talent slaved away here, making and despatching the company's vast repertoire of biccies to Britain, the Empire and the World. Now, anyone who knows me knows I cannot resist a biscuit. So, what a cruel twist of fate it is that I, of all people, should end up working in a biscuit factory when all traces of the blithering biscuits have gone!
Ain't life cruel, sometimes?