Cubby learns the trade

MY CAREER as a cub reporter hasn't always gone as smoothly as I planned.

Despite all the fantastic advice from more established reporters - and by that I mean everyone in the office - and studying journalism at the University of Sheffield, it still seems that I can bungle the simplest of jobs.

You might not believe it but remembering to ask everyone you ever speak to their name, age and address is quite a task.

Well, you might believe it now you know I'm a student but I swear I am trying hard.

I've wanted to be a reporter, despite my better judgement and the pay situation, for as long as I can bear to think back.

My mum always used to tell me that I was good at business studies and I could get a really good job in the city, lots of money there.

But I decided that, although I would love not to have to worry about money, I would probably shoot myself in the head after a day in the world of business.

Saying that, journalism is not the least stressful of jobs.

There are deadlines, people who clearly don't want to give you the time of day and then, of course, there IS the time of day when you're trying to juggle 15 stories that just refuse to come together.

And then there's that sinking feeling you get as a cubby - which, by the way, has become my office nickname - when people are clearly running around you trying to clear up whatever mess you might have made this time.

My hat is definitely off to the amazing staff here who put so much time into teaching youngsters like me the tricks of the trade despite having work coming out of their ears.

But, after all that moaning, I wouldn't pick any other job in the world.

What other job lets you in on the secrets the rest of the world are waiting to hear?