Tuesday was the big debut - an interview with Alan Sugar. This seriously impressed my friends, but not Sir Alan. "I don't know why my people agreed to this," he said, as he walked in an hour late

It's the oldest cliché in politics, but a week really is a long time. A few days ago I was about to return to work in the Commons Press Gallery, having been at home on maternity leave since Christmas. It turned out to be a fantastically exciting week in politics: 42 days, David Davis, Irish referendum. Plenty to get my teeth into.

I saw none of that action - I was covering fuel strikes and a housing crisis for ITV News, having been told, just before my return, that I was being promoted from chief political correspondent to economics editor. I was a little stunned. Most of my friends seem to think it's hilarious. My husband has taken to calling me Indiana Dow Jones. Ho ho.

The economy is the big story of the moment, both nationally and internationally, and as a journalistic brief it's seriously exciting. First things first, phone a friend. I took Andrew Neil out for dinner at the Wolseley. We drank and talked and gossiped and came up with fantastic story ideas. The next morning I had a headache and no memory at all of the ideas.

The BlackBerry generation

Day one in the new job: am very brave, leaving home and the children, Milly, two, and baby Daniel. Get to work and I have to be helped with log-ins, passwords, passes, finding the loo, the lot. As economics editor I am expected to be part of the BlackBerry generation, so try to keep up when the nice guy tells me about the amazing things I can - and never will - do with it. Then I have to cover up a wobbly bottom lip when I realise I'll lose my baby photos from my last phone.

All journalists at ITN are being trained to edit their own reports. Because of a well-timed pregnancy, I have so far avoided the essential training. This is a good thing: I am terrified of the whole idea. When I was offered the new job I asked if my elevated status would mean avoiding self-edit. "Far from it," I was told. "James Mates is an expert now and prefers to edit his own pieces." So now the trainers are out to get me. A senior newsroom producer catches me pretending to pick something up off the floor as one of them walks past.

Deborah Turness, my boss, had earlier given me my orders. "Daisy, all we're expecting from you are a few good exclusive stories and some big-name interviews with people who no one else can get a sit-down with." No pressure, then.

The perils of going live

Tuesday was the big debut. I was looking at the wider implications of the housing crisis and had an interview with Alan Sugar. This seriously impressed my friends, but sadly not Sir Alan. "I don't know why my people agreed to this," he said as he walked in, an hour late. "I have no idea why I'm here." Oh dear.

Get back to newsroom, ready to edit after a long day of filming in Sugar's home town of Brentwood, and discover one of the tapes is totally unusable. Of course, it's the Sugar interview. I feel sick. We manage to salvage a ten-second soundbite, but by the time I get into the edit suite I am a woman on the verge. Not helped by being forced to view rushes of myself. Poor Abdi, the VT editor, kept cheerful throughout, as I shrieked, "For God's sake, no bum shots." He did his best to conceal the true horror from the viewers - but I can see that editing isn't necessarily the solution. Vow to go running, diet and really, really not drink during the week.

At ten, I'm waiting to do my first "live" outside the Bank of England and I'm nervous. I mutter what I'm going to say about interest rate rises again and again. I hear Julie Etchingham say, "Let's cross to Daisy McAndrew, our economics editor" - and am drowned out by a police siren stuck in traffic right next to me. Finish the live all flustered, but get nice texts from bosses and friends, though not from my husband, a talented TV editor and my fiercest critic. Fifteen minutes pass and I call. He's slept right through it. Am seriously relieved. And a bit peeved.

Fuel stories take up the rest of the week - after doing a live on Thursday night from a Shell garage forecourt, and battling to be heard over drunk Polish football fans, I made it to a friend's dinner party at about 11pm. They had, loyally, all watched. So what did they think? They thought my hair looked nice.

Daisy McAndrew is economics editor for ITN News

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