On Friday I packed up my desk at work and pulled two years’ accumulated pictures, postcards and subeditor jokes off the wall. I finished everything up early and left. It felt odd; as if I was just preparing to go on holiday or something. This morning I drove to my office like normal, parked the car like normal, went in the same door as normal — and went up the stairs instead of down. It was peculiar: I’m at home in the building and know many of the people who work “upstairs” but on making that one small change I felt hugely nervous. I know it’s usual to feel some trepidation with any new venture, perhaps especially with a job, but it did feel a bit silly at the same time. The day passed well, many people whose names I already knew came and introduced themselves, and everyone was lovely. Even my little desk garden felt at home — starting something new, just like me.