I’ve hired myself out freelance to a weekly magazine where my job is to pretty up other people’s sentences for a fee. All very well except that, as with all freelance work, there will be the inevitable wait to process a payment. I’m sure the magazine can afford it, though. Their West London office seems swanky enough, as does the parade of shops it’s set on. On lunch break, I feel instantly poor: at the organic deli next door they are selling gorgeous but unaffordable sandwiches and a face cream that costs £120 for a tiny tube. I try the sampler and my skin feels great. A quick calculation. That was about £5-worth of cream – earnings for the day just went up.