Erica's brought back a load of sweets from the States and now I am in space.
I haven't been this swirly since I inhaled inside the Hershey's store at Niagara Falls. I feel like I'm floating.
Outside of course, the rest of the world is drizzly grey. It's all wet concrete and swooshing cars, the pockmarked lake and the dripping trees, a skyful of grey slowly moving above the glistening paths and umbrellas.
Inside, where the warm plasma lamps paint everything a permanent pale yellow, everyone is coughing. I feel like I've come back to a weird hospital ward where the patients have been given desktops and phones instead of beds and treatment.
"I'm alright!" I said happily, crunching through a 'Jolly Ranger'. It cracked between my teeth and my tongue fizzed with sugar. It was like eating a rainbow.
I'm kind of hoping the air conditioning isn't steadily redistributing clouds of viruses around the office. It's chugging cold air at the moment.
Someone just snorted from the back of their rasping throat. It sounded like a hacksaw trying to splutter through some custard. That is disgusting.
Who knows, maybe this packet of multicoloured Jolly Rangers will push my energy levels high enough to overcome any nasty bugs out there in the ether. Maybe I'll be running on saccharine for the rest of the day, fuelled with that relentless positivity and upbeat cheeriness that seems so natural to our transatlantic cousins.
Do your stuff, Jolly Rangers.
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