Friday, 8 January 2010
When I was younger I had dreams of becoming a vet, an archaeologist, a bus driver and a ballerina. Well the ballet lessons went brilliantly, honest. They only ended because I threw a hissy fit because my class mate had the audacity to touch Chrissy my favourite dolly. The dolly in question was £14 and came from Poundstretcher but as far as I was concerned she was golden and no one was to touch her without my permission which was highly unlikely to be granted. I was so traumatised by the ordeal I couldn’t quite bring myself to return to ballet classes, a great loss to the world of dance if I do say so myself. The archaeology plan fell through due only to my waning interest and the vet plan didn’t come to surface because of my lack of natural interest and aptitude for science. From time to time I do genuinely consider driving a bus, particularly around London and it’s definitely my Plan B. My parents and I wish I was joking, really. Then I reconsidered and decided I’d love to work in publishing or journalism, preferably publishing ideally in London. It seemed perfect for me in every way until I thought about the potentially pitiful pay, the price of property in London and that old chestnut, “am I good enough?” As a result I opted to focus on a career in Law, pretty much guaranteeing financial security and a structured career path. But would I ever be honestly be happy in such a job, dealing with such repetitious, fickle cases and moving young couple after young couple into semi detached 3 bed with room for a nursery after another or perhaps worse, dealing with Jeremy Kyle regulars and their latest family feuds? I think I knew deep down the answer would always be no, not really. So tonight, I decided to lay the lawyer plans aside and focus what I’m best suited to. So here’s to hours of overtime, persuading “tortured” authors to sign off their baby to film companies, using Vogue as a fan on the tube and wondering if life as a lawyer would be a. Less stressful and b. Allow me to afford those darling ballet flats but let’s get the standard grades out of the way first. Wish me luck.