Copywriter Jobs is currently my number one search term on Google. Yawn?

Spent some time last night on grown up Facebook – LinkedIn – window shopping, seeing what’s out there. Quite a lot of Copywriter Jobs actually, as long as you live in London.

You must realise I can see why people like London, but on the odd times I go there, I just don’t get London.

It’s not as if I’m wedded to rural living – Gorleston on Sea is a town with three high schools, so hardly isolated (apart from the roads to get here).

But Copywriter Jobs in London hold scant appeal.

I think it’s the commuting that would do my head in, as well as the cost of living. I remember taking my Golf to Shoreditch in the 90s, resetting its trip computer and, over four days there, it averaged 8 miles per hour. My MPG dropped to about 18. Ouch.

A day’s parking on Kensington High Street cost about the same as my terraced house in Oldham; beer was expensive; as was eating out.

I didn’t get it then and I still don’t.

But, last night, we watched three episodes of The Apprentice that had been Tivod (see new word there – I should get Copywriter Jobs on that word alone).

I like that programme alot.

The Apprentice makes London look like the urban equivalent of say the Maldives, even the Bridge Cafe has a certain charm. The prismatic glass buildings, the sumptuous Georgian townhouse occupied by diminishing numbers of conceited numpties, the non-diegetic soundtrack blurring the constant reality of noise in London.

I also love the hypocrisy of the programme – for example, the way Lord Sugar makes them wear high vis vests and hard hats on rooftops, when the regs don’t apply to him, Lady Brady or Santa Claud.

It got me thinking though about jobs in London, Copywriter Jobs.

Would the BBC let me stay in that house for free? There’s obviously space as the contestants get fired. I don’t want any part of the tasks or the sycophancy of behaving like Uriah Heep to Lord Sugar – I had Amstrad products and thought they were bad, which probably wouldn’t endear me to him. I’m not keen on Lady Brady either – or her voting recently on taxes in the Lords. Claud, not sure about to be honest.

Now I’ll stop rambling and wrap this up. Here’s the deal.

I live in that house, never on camera, never on the rooftop sipping champagne with the apprentices, but I live, hobbit-like, in one of the bedrooms plugging away with blog posts on my iMac, with a daily office visit to some hip part of London to talk copy.

I could come back to Norfolk on Friday night and go back to the Smoke on Sunday, to do copywriting jobs, resetting my trip computer on my Mini, marvelling at the A11 and A47, spending quality time with my wife and two children, before girding my loins for a return to the city.

I think it has “legs” – back to Google and LinkedIn now for Copywriter Jobs.