Another farewell

It was my last day at my job yesterday. I didn't cry. Neither did anyone else (bastards, I thought they were supposed to be bereft and confused without me). They made a pretend front page with pictures of me looking, variously, fat, gormless, idiotic and like a stripper (the pole I was swinging around may have had something to do with that). They gave me a wedding album and some quite acceptable jewellery (a little girly, but hey, it's purple which is good enough for me). Then we went out for a nice meal and some debauched drinking.

Well, that was the plan but they all had to go to work the next day so it was more like two drinks in the pub afterwards. I was up for dancing but where do you go to dance in Newmarket on a Wednesday night? Oh yes - the strip club. We decided that was probably too expensive.

Anyway, I took lots of nice pictures on my new video/still camera - including several of me which were instantly deleted because it looked like I had a double chin, and some absolutely hilarious ones of my friend W who, although reasonably hot in the flesh, looks like a goit in every single picture I've ever seen of him.

Then I went home and put in a new memory card and formatted it (this was the following day) and mistakenly deleted every single one of the lovely pictures I'd taken,

Bugger.

Anyway, it was the end of a four-year stint at my first proper job. Or hob, as I just typed. Blimey, that would be some serious cooking. And in some ways, I was sad to go - after time you get comfortable in somewhere like that, I know the names of all the important people and some of their phone numbers off by heart, I know all the big stories past, current, and potentially future (well, obviously I can't predict the future but I know they're, for example, building a new swimming pool). At my new job, I know diddly squat. I don't know anybody there, I have only spoken to my immediate boss-to-be on the phone and I only really know Oxford as a visitor - a frequent visitor, but still a visitor.

That said, there will be a lot of things I won't miss. But this isn't the place for a bitter diatribe, cos really, I'm not bitter, just ready to move on. I am pretty excited about starting my new job because, actually, that crap you spout in interviews is really true for me. I want to be more challenged - I'm looking forward to more pressing deadlines because I do genuinely do my best work under pressure. And I'm pretty sure it's not going to be boring. Not for a while at least.

It's all going to be a bit weird though. Like being the new girl at school half way through term, because it's not like when I started as a trainee - then you're not expected to know anything, not really. I'm going in as a "senior" reporter. And I bet they don't let you wear jeans when it's cold and the heating's not working.

Wish me luck people - I just hope I don't end the day hiding in the toilets. Not that I ever did that at my old job, or anything

More on that story later.