This morning I woke up worrying for my sanity after an odd dream. I'd won a competition and the top prize was a visit to the Word office. The winners were myself and a young woman who I didn't know; accompanying us was an excitable Davina McCall-alike who acted as our guide.
We turned up outside the main door as a Monday morning editorial was about to start. David Hepworth wasn't impressed at the interruption but allowed us stay a little while to observe proceedings. At this point Davina whisked me off to show me the rest of the building, leaving my co-winner in the office.
A short time later I went back to the main room. Mr. Hepworth gave me the skunk eye and I felt like a young boy hauled up to see the Head Teacher for an unknown misdemeanor. Not wanting to stay under this withering gaze, I wandered over to see what my companion was up to. She explained that Hepworth was making her finish off someone else's article as he didn't think the original was good enough. She was very upset because she knew nothing about the artist that the piece was about and was asking me for advice. I didn't want to get involved and managed to wake myself up at this point.
Preceding this adventure, a few nights before I'd dreamt that I'd texted the Today programme to point out an error in their pronunciation of a phrase. For this I won £10, 000.
As my wife lovingly pointed out to me this morning, "You dreamt about the Today programme and now Word magazine? Not very rock'n'roll is it?".