Why I do what I do: part one
The first steps into a life unknown
It was a gorgeous Monday morning and what better way to spend it than out having a natter and a cuppa with a bezzie. We put the world to rights, as is our custom, and made plans for sorting it all out between the two of us. Mission accomplished, a lull in our tête-à-tête followed and bezzie asks me:
'H, why do you do what you do?'
We’ve been besties for a while but never had this question been asked. Had it been: ‘Ryan Gosling: yay or nay?’, I wouldn’t have batted a mascaraed eyelash.
More savvy biz owners would have eloquently reeled off a bullet-pointed list of raison d'etre for their work. Moi replied:
'Dunno. I just do.'
[Come on, it was a Monday. I only know my own name come Tuesday.]
Post-cuppa I went off for a wander in the chilly-but-sunny day. I stretched my mind back and pondered on the question again, on the whys and wherefores of what brought me to where I am now, doing what I’m doing. It had been a long time (almost two decades) so a meander in the sunshine to find memory lane was in order.
Being (and running a biz as) a clairvoyant wasn't really a choice I made, at least not consciously, and if I'm really laying all the cards on the side table I was pretty much thrown into it, screeching and swearing as I went.
So how did it begin?
It was a Friday, I remember that. I was feeling a bit peaky and left work early to reacquaint myself with my duvet and Friends boxset. What I wasn’t aware of, as Ross et al., entertained me, was that said Friday would be my last day at said work, and my world, as I had known it, was about to come crashing down in spectacular, Lehmen-esque fashion.