Last day at work! On Tuesday I start my new and very exciting commissioning job, and part of me is panicking and thinking ‘Why did they give this to me?! I am inexperienced!’ but another part is thinking ‘They saw I had potential and good ideas and if they didn’t think I could do it they would’ve hired someone else’. I hope the second part wins out, as publishers can smell fear.

My leaving party was last night. Started off in the boardroom with wine and snacks, and presents. I got a Routemaster clock (with a 159 on it!), Routemaster coasters, a Cath Kidston shower cap and bangle, lots of gummi sweets, some 1950s naked lady flick-books and a £50 Homebase gift voucher, which I had requested. Hurrah! A new BBQ for summer! Garden furniture! 1970s retro wallpaper! I managed not to cry during my boss’s speech (as it was brief and upbeat) but I did tear up when I opened the gift from him and his wife (my ex-boss). They got me a silver business card holder with my name engraved on it.

So today, like all the best days, has been lazy and food-based. Met Tom at Chequers this morning for a sausage, egg and bacon sandwich*, met Nihara for lunch at Livebait, and am shortly going for a coffee/exit interview with HR.

Countdown to the last hour of work… Think I’ve actually gone a bit mad with nerves caused by leaving the company I’ve been bitching and moaning about for the last four years. It feels like stepping off the edge of a cliff – what if the new place is horrible and run by sadists (their benefits package suggests this is the case)? What if all my new colleagues are humourless goons?



*when you order this sandwich the guy at the counter yells ‘fried egg!’ and three minutes later another guy runs up from the basement carrying a fried egg on a small silver platter

A trip to H&M at lunchtime to cheer myself up (more on that later) proved fruitless. Loads of cute(sy) little tops and blouses with puff sleeves, smocking and Peter Pan collars look great on the hanger but bad on anyone with boobs, and besides, where am I supposed to wear them? To the office, where I need to look competent and confident rather than like a giant baby? So I got nothing.

Just found out that in a bizarre twist my new job will actually pay less than my current job. Yes, really. Over the weekend I found a letter telling me that in December 05 my salary had gone up by £800 (I should really remember this, right?) so my new job will actually only pay £700 more a year than my current one. And here’s the best bit: the hours at my new job are longer (9-6! Eek!) so my new salary won’t be any bigger at all.

Lessons learned: commit salary details to memory, or at least to diary, and, when offered a new job… negotiate.