A moment ago I heard the best thing I've heard all day.
I sat down - after venturing out to eat a nutritious meal of egg, chips and beans - to bossman James telling me he'd had a dream about me.
*AWKWARD* (we shared a room in Frankfurt - it's not awkward).
Apparently, when James woke up on Saturday morning his wife asked him if he was OK having spent the night rolling around like a madman. 'Yes,' he said. 'I had a dream that I was on a Boris bike with no brakes that was being propelled forwards and I had to keep dodging cars, trucks and buses on the streets of London. Thing is, it was a tandem Boris bike and Katy was on the back too.'
I, Katy, assistant to James Stephens, like to think that this is a subconscious projection of the Big Cheese's reign of terror and compulsion to publish 140 books next year.
But it's only speculation. Far more likely that he's just in love with me or something.