I remember the day we could all go back into the office. I love my flatmates but I was so glad to close the door and head back to the Tube. We’d done it, managed not to kill each other. One day we’ll tell stories of the fights over the kitchen table and the time Sam walked naked through the background of my call. We worked it out. But we were all delighted to go back to the offices we’d all complained about. Meaningless watercooler gossip; brainstorms; informal creative networks. And my mentor: he comes in from Surrey every Friday.