Katherine Forster

To anyone who has dreamed of becoming a journalist, the thrill of walking into a national newspaper office never goes away. My desk is in the glass-clad offices of the Sunday Times, next to the Shard; the outside ‘walls’ are all windows and the views from the ninth floor are spectacular. When I first came here, as an intern, I was too scared to admire anything. Now I’m back, this time on the news review section and in charge of the interns, which entertains me no end. Many are from Oxbridge, and all are super-smart. I try to sound authoritative, hoping my age — I’m 48 — will help me do so. But there’s little point in my pretending to have been doing this for years, since often they’ve googled me before they arrive.