It's one of those publishing punch the air moments (which amongst the upper echelons, translates as slightly heightened complexions, modest nodding, gruff clearing of throats and a few awkward handshakes without making eye contact) as our very own Aravind Adiga has leapt from longlist to shortlist with his first novel White Tiger. Outside in the main office it's any excuse for a celebration with much whooping and screeching - even kissing and hugging - and corks will no doubt be popping later, or at the very least tops unscrewing.
I don't know why I'm jumping around looking delighted. I'll only be here for the hangovers. I'm wondering if my latest task of restocking the First Aid box is in any way related.
