Close-Up: 24 hours with ... Richard Exon, Rainey Kelly Campbell Roalfe/Y&R

Name: Richard Exon
Job: Chief executive officer, Rainey Kelly Campbell Roalfe/Y&R
Professional mission: Do work to be proud of
Personal mantra: Be yourself

8.00am No alarm today, it's Sunday. Bliss. Annabel, 14 months, was up late last night and doesn't stir until 8.00am, and so begins a strange, half-speed morning that bears little resemblance to the mayhem of the week. John Humpreys is replaced by Sunday Worship (for about two seconds); the BlackBerry has no urgent overnight messages.

8.15am Breakfast at Cafe Bon-Bon with my wife, Mel, and child. We juggle The Observer, The Sunday Times and The Sunday Telegraph. Breakfast chooses itself, but what comes first - business pages or colour supps, sport or news? I remember a comment made by a client's sales director on Friday. "If ever you want a reason to call a client, read the FT, they'll always be something in there." Dutifully go and buy fourth paper of the day.

10.15am Driving to Camden. It's a sunny London morning, light traffic and stress levels are down. Until Buckingham Palace Gate. A state visit means diversions, and diversions mean bottlenecks, and I've found London's only jam at that particular moment. Bollocks!

11.15am Arrive in Camden. There's a particular atmosphere in an agency on a Sunday, and not all of it bad. The place looks much the same, but with most people absent, the energy is concentrated in knots, a few tireless souls going above and beyond. We have two pitches and a major presentation to an existing client. There's creative work being reviewed, edits being tweaked, research summaries being written. It's an impressive mix of individuals, all with a focus and commitment. Why does weekend work always seem more productive? People talk of the lack of interruptions, etc. Or of the need for speed. Whatever the answer, these stolen days are addictive. We ask so much of our people, mustn't make a habit of it.

5.00pm Most of us are done, with enough of the evening left to appease our loved ones. Sort of. On the drive home, I take a few calls, then Annabel does the child thing, which forces all thoughts of advertising out of my head.

8.00pm Supper with Mel before tackling the north face of the newspaper mountain. Not a vintage set of business pages, and rugby and cricket have given way to endless football coverage.

10.30pm Bed.

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