Our twenties are spent rising early. We dutifully treat '5pm knock off' as a quaint relic of the past, waving our managers goodnight as they whisk past us to pick up kids, meet wives and enjoy dinner around the table. On we tap, our fingers nimble at our keyboards. Simultaneously those fingers message workmates about after-work drinks and later manipulate chopsticks to pluck dumplings from bowls placed in laps in front of the TV. "Gritting your teeth, you hold onto me. It's never enough, I'm never complete." At night our dreams are coloured with interviews that need arranging, ideas that need pitching, deadlines that need meeting and features that need rewriting. Our mornings are a flurry of Weetbix and showers and hair dryers and ironing and makeup and traffic. Our phones are bleeping before we hit our desks, deadlines are coming and lunch breaks are going. Contacts get built and ideas knocked down. Egos are bruised and dreams are realised. "Hopin