All change please, all change

It was a warm indian summer, the end of September, and a week before my 28th birthday, when I moved to London. I had a month’s worth of work with a company called Northstar, whose offices were at Kings Cross.

I didn’t realise when I was packing up to catch the train, that I would be leaving the North for good, and could never have imagined that I’d get a permanent job with that company.
I started as a humble staff writer, and now I’m an editor.
I’ve been to Syria, Japan, Italy, Berlin, Sheffield and Belfast. I’ve slept in comfort in hotels, in a windowless cabin on an Italian aircraft carrier and with a crick in my neck in economy class on lots of flights.
I’ve interviewed Wayne Rooney and a whole stack of Marie Curie Nurses, dressed down for work and dressed up for polo matches with princes.
I’ve driven Alfa Romeos and Audis, trekked back and forth across London on the 155 and 63 buses, zipped down the longest zipwire in the UK, eaten amazing food, slurped lots of champagne, been chauffeur-driven, and sat for seemingly endless hours at my basement desk reading and writing emails, tweaking copy, discussing page layouts…

There have been exhilarating highs and some tedious lows, and now, just over four years later, I’m moving on to a new job, a new adventure, a new challenge.
I’m very excited.

The week I arrived in London I wrote: ‘when I opened the front door to head out this morning I had a sense of anticipation that was the same as when you know you’re going to open the door and find snow.’

Change can be terrifying, but when you’re ready for it, it’s good. The anticipation that the future, unknown as it is, holds promise and hope, is a brilliant feeling.

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