So, I wasn't working today.

So why am I on a train underground in London heading for Canary Wharf? Because of pointless beauracratic paperwork, that's why.

Happy, not so much. My daughter watched me get on the train, and then went home, put a man in her little choo choo, and said "Bye bye Daddy"

These were supposed to be her days.

It doesn't matter if I do my job or not, but because some senior manager can run a report and see if a box has been ticked, this is important. Is this what my life has become?

I'll be going home as soon as I can.