Everyday is a newsday. But Fridays are especially so. Fridays are special. On this day of the week, I am immersed in newspapers, quizzed on the latest stories, reporting from the legendary land of Oxdown, and conferencing with my classmates. I eat lunch with a broadsheet in hand and spend breaks online catching up to BBC4.
Its a 9-5 day. I head to conference with a coffee in my left hand, my right free to practice shorthand while my course director, Dave, goes on about how to peg stories and punctuate paragraph after paragraph after five-sentence-max paragraph.
The best part of the day, aside from lunch, but taking place the hour before - (torture I must say), is NCTJ exam prep. We head to the newsroom, the same newsroom that once housed the BBC. We are given 60 minutes to write a 250 word report generated from a press release out of the wonderful land of Oxdown. Its made up. My stomach growling is real and adds to the pressue. The document is placed on the desk beside me.
The gun goes and we're off.
By the end of the hour, the hunger pangs are long forgotten and all I can think is paragraph, after paragraph, after five-sentence-max, properly punctuated, paragraph. I scan my story for the words "local" and "resident," deleting any trace of those blasphemous terms and submit.
I depart from Oxdown and my brain lands safely back into Nottingham. I'm about to link to www.thisisnottigham.co.uk when my stomach growls. And I'm off. The newsday breaks, but only for a moment.
This is Friday. Every Friday. Every day is a newsday. But Friday is full on.
