The company has already received a lot of media attention, with the first shop to receive the Shopjacket treatment, a rundown former Select store in Whitley Bay that now looks like a thriving delicatessen, featured everywhere from the Telegraph and Mail to Radio Four and Sky News.

You can read more about Shopjacket and see some of the press coverage here.

Two and a half years ago I was the first to move in, along with Stu Wheatman, to this former, erm, brick works / printers / sweet factory. The Journal interviewed us not long afterwards. Stu moved out in January, and today I’m following him.

It’s been a good workspace, give or take a long-term broken window, a leaky roof that habitually turns the corridors into something from The Poseidon Adventure, and a resultant fug of lung-clogging damp. Oh, and the noise from the adjacent coach works’ diesel pump, which must surely be the most bone-shakingly teeth-grindingly noisy piece of equipment on this entire Earth.

Overall, though, I’m sad to be leaving, mainly because it means I will, for the time being, be working from home. Contrary to popular belief, this does not mean sitting with a laptop in front of the telly with one eye on Jeremy Kyle. It means knuckling down in the (still to be decorated) spare room for a good eight hours or maybe two thousand words.

I don’t have any problem motivating myself to start work by 8 every morning. The problem is stopping, and then switching off. There is always one more thing to be done, one little bit to be finished, and 5pm becomes 6, and 7, or sometimes 8.

Then, without the inevitably slow crawl home through rush hour traffic, it’s difficult to switch off. A quick toddle down the stairs is not really sufficient to clear a day’s work from the mind. Maybe I need to jump in the car and drive around the block each evening.

Whatever, bye bye Brick Works, if anyone needs me I’ll be at home, and feel free to disturb me during Loose Women.