Home from home

So the event created purely for Hallmark to make an extra buck or two between Xmas and Easter has thankfully passed and we can happily stroll into M&S without tacky velvet hearts swooning down upon us for another year. Flicking through the Sunday supplements yesterday that were full to the brim with all things to do with luuurve, I found an article celebrating love in all its forms, not just romantic slushy kind: love of our children, gay love, friendship love etc.

It got me thinkin'. You see last week I got a bit of a lump in my throat on route to work, thinking about the fact that very shortly I won't be making this drive any more. Not that the drive excites me - hell, the M25 on a Friday is enough to make me want to open a vein - but the folk at the destination do. The job, well, I've loved it, but after two years on a soap I feel I've lived every story almost possible - and am ready for something new to get my grey matter ticking over. It is the folk that I work with - my home away from home, that I'll miss the most. Working in a creative and sometimes stressful environment means we all have survived tears, tantrums and traumas, and usually before we've even had the first cuppa in the morning. There is one lone metrosexual male in a sea of hormonal women - he is lucky to get through a day without one of us venting/abusing/weeping on his shoulder. Or he on ours.

Its the little things I'm gonna miss: curry Thursdays, Nandos (the only decent restaurant in the area - yes, we are scraping barrels, we know) for birthdays or just because it is Friday, bouncing around the office on an orange space hopper to celebrate the publishing of scripts, harassing the only male scheduler to get me chocolate on pain of death, gossiping about X factor over the zillionth cup of tea (two bags and leave them in thanks), playing 'shag marry or push' or other various 'would you rather' games that involve questions such as 'would you give a gorilla a BJ for a million quid? Why not?You don't have to swallow?'

I've always been of the opinion that it aint about the job, it's about the people. If you enjoy those that you have to rub up with at work, then you're onto a winner. Manys a morning after Sproglet has frayed my nerves into tiny pieces and the weight of full-time-working-Motherhood guilt has threatened to break my shoulders in half, I have showed up to work, had a good cry, vented to the assembled group, and felt a million times better. Through my marital meltdown to discovering a good friend was ill, to hearing my job must end, my fellow eds unwavering support has been nothing short of amazing. When the chips are down, they're there for me, and for each other. Don't get me wrong, we could all have happily strangled each other at various points as well - most of us have fine tempers - but things always blow over the next day, or someone in the office has a birthday and we bond of over a sickly tray of melted chocolate icing.

In all my years in telly, having survived pervy bosses, bitchy jealous female execs, arrogant co-presenters, ego driven directors and falser than Jordan's nails co-workers, it has been a blast to work with such a great bunch. Whilst I'm excited about my book and at last having the luxury of time in my life, my heart feels a little heavy knowing I won't be around for the daily catch ups, the inane little moments that add up into a friendship. And never again will someone ask me 'would you swop your life for the most successful life you could ever dream of living, with a wonderful family, great house/job/money etc - but you had to be a dwarf?'