Friday was a very strange day for me. I woke up feeling nervous and excited in equal measure: it was my last day at the Western Mail, my workday home for the last four and a half years.

At 5.30pm I would no longer be a senior features correspondent, and would have to say goodbye to the only grown up job I’ve ever had.

On getting up, I spent a few minutes agonising over whether this auspicious occasion deserved a special outfit, before defering to my comfort and going with snow-conscious layers.

Then, having negotiated the icy roads to the station, I felt a twinge of emotion as I surveyed the train station where I’ve spent countless mornings reading the Metro and drinking coffee.

Sentimentality bowed to realism however, as I bought my last train ticket – what a relief to be able to swap an expensive 1 ½ hour commute for a 15 minute walk to the office!

As I arrived at 6 Park Street, my boss greeted my arrival with a cry of ‘Ooh, last day!’ and I giggled nervously, unsure how to react to the weird form of celebrity which is bestowed on anyone brave enough to hand in their notice.

Then I began the laborious process of clearing the random mounds of magazines, press releases, make up and catalogues that inhabit my desk, something I really should have done a lot sooner.

All through the day, the tiniest things took on new significance – washing my coffee cup out for the last time, proofing my last page, sending my last email.

It was the end of so many habits and rituals and comforting familiarities, and my writer brain wanted to absorb them all for posterity.

But mostly what I wanted to remember was the people, and Friday provided plenty of opportunity for that too.

There was lunch with the girls, all pizza and gossip, and then drinks in the evening where I didn’t have to open my wallet once.

Several people came over during the afternoon to give me a hug or a handshake and a “good luck” and at the end of the day I blushed my way through a lovely farewell speech and the opening of my extremely thoughtfully chosen presents (a knitting needle bag and a sewing case, which, as you can imagine, I am thrilled with!)

As I sat on the train home after my farewell drinks, I was a jumble of conflicting emotions.

There was gratitude towards those whose friendship I have enjoyed and those who have taught and encouraged me over the years, and there was a good kind of pride too, as I handed over the supplement I’ve worked hard to make a success.

Of course there was sadness, because I’ve got to know a lot of really good people over the last four and a half years and I will miss them, but there was also a strange sense that this wouldn’t be the last I saw of Media Wales, and that somehow, someday, I’d be back again.

And then of course there was excitement, because I knew that on Monday – today – I would start a whole new life full of adventures.

Perhaps, after all, I should have called this blog post ‘beginnings’.