Riots riots riots.

Today I got the phone call most working people wish for every day. 'You will still get paid, but don't come in.'

Unfortunately this is a result of fears of riots spreading to Salford and Manchester. In spite of tweets from the GMP telling us there are no riots in Manchester, nothing to back up claims of looting in Salford, and that the four burning cars in Salford being not of any connection with riots but in fact the product of a usual every day Monday (should we be relieved at that?) there are still rumours coming from people phoning and texting that something might happen. And my bosses are kind enough to fear for my safety over office outputs.

I feel bad now for my grumpy retort to my housemate's boyfriend, who told me there may be riots coming to Manchester: 'well I might not have to go into work then.' That was a result of a low mood and not of a complete lack of care and empathy for those who have been badly affected by these happenings. Promise.

So really, ironically perhaps (I'm not sure I've ever used that word correctly) when I finally get that phone call I've been dreaming of ever since I started working as a 13 year old waitress in a cafe whose patrons enjoyed barking orders at young girls and seeing how many complaints they could get in before the girls began to cry, I'm thinking to myself, I'd rather be in work.