“What do you want to be when you grow up?” There were many times in my life when that was a burning question. I frequently fantasised about that longed-for day when I could emerge from the grey torpor of school and the parental chrysalis, and spread my wings into the technicolour freedom promised by the world of work.
However, at no point in my varied working life have I ever been an air hostess, hairdresser, doctor (that one was to please my Mum), actress, ballerina, or any of the myriad exciting careers that were my childhood ambitions. Indeed the list of tedious jobs that actually have filled my adult life would have made my childhood self either laugh, or refuse to go on, due to the obvious dullness of it all.
I have always envied people who have had the certainty of knowing exactly what it is they want to do with their lives from a very young age, and then actually doing it. It seems to show an admirable sense of purpose. I wonder how many teachers, firemen and nurses are fulfilling their childhood dreams? Probably a lot more than the accountants and lawyers, although I daresay the latter are more likely to fulfil their childhood dreams of owning a Ferrari.
One of my kids wants to drive their own ice cream van, and I can see why that would appeal. Another wants to be a taxi driver, but that’s probably because he thinks it’s what I already do, and he rather likes the idea of a family business. It seems that no-one wants to be a policeman any more (too dangerous), or soldier (likewise, unless you want a book deal), or cowboy (condemned for harassing the indigenous population). The power of television in our lives has meant that the ‘glamorous’ jobs from a child’s point of view are presenting programmes, playing football, or singing.
Actually, I ought to confess that the one childhood ambition I have never been able to shake off is to be a singer, even though, like most people, I have absolutely no talent for it.
I am humming now, as I sip this glass of crisp Tesco Finest Chablis from the stockpile (now at £5.49 from £7.99 until 15/05 – hurry Dulwich Mum!). No doubt, when I open the fridge door for a refill, there will be enough of a spotlight to justify me bursting fully into song.
