Still eating Christmas cheese. I’ve come to the point where I feel I’m exuding Époisses from my pores like some sort of ambulant fondue dispenser.

Docklands. Nearly 20 years since I worked here for a bank. And while I tell myself that I’m doing better work in the NHS in our crappy buildings with nine year old computers I couldn’t help feeling a pang of envy for the facilities in and around each of these blocks.

My HomePod has stopped giving verbal feedback, even the little ‘uh-huh’. It feels like it’s cross with me or sulking. Too many Christmas playlists perhaps.