Half way, first week, bloody knackered.

After years of holding the prestigious title of Office Temp, it's fair to say I've had more first days at work than hot dinners.

In fact, this was my fourth 'first day' at The Company, so any worries about dress code (the casual side of smart casual), the hours (10 til 6, and now the odd weekend), the location (where it's always been) and the getting there (20 minutes on the tube) weren't nearly as stressful as your average first day generally is.

That said, there is always that moment of apprehension when you walk through the door, the introductions start, and you try to judge whether you're going to be grabbing after work drinks with your new work mates, or scrabbling at the window to get away from them come 6pm.

But first impressions in this case were good. You know, when you immediately get on with the people in your team, and you're all woohoooo about finding a job that appeals to the imaginative rather than clerical tea-making side of your brain. It's amazing how being back at work - even just for three days - can make you feel more positive about all the bits of life that hadn't seemed so great the week before.

The routine of work can and no doubt will be boring, but after not having one for so long, it can also be the most reassuring thing in the world.

Saying that, having spent this evening concocting more articles for The Writer, I'll be a lot happier when said routine doesn't involve coming home and tackling an excel spreadsheet of 50 Places to Bore Your Children Senseless During The Holidays.

My room is a mess of half drunk glasses of water, clothing, plates and topless bottles. But my eyelids have the final say: one job at a time, for this girl, is enough.