The last time my youngest came with us on holiday (16/17 years old, I think. Isn’t that terrible that I can’t remember? What kind of a mother am I?) everybody we met asked him the same question: What do you want to do when you leave college?
He got very bored, very quickly, as he’d gained an apprenticeship and knew exactly where he was going (mechanical engineering).
I know it was a long time ago, but I honestly can’t remember being asked that question. With feminism relatively new at that time, I suspect it was because a) no-one cared and b) they assumed I’d eventually marry and have kids and that was the ultimate ambition for a woman back then, apparently *eyeroll*. I personally had no interest in that though (hence my earlier failure).
My dad’s ambition for me was to go to university (he never had the opportunity) and my careers adviser’s ambition for me was to be a policewoman (on account of being tall).
But when I was a teenager, I had just two ambitions: To go skiing, and go to the Caister Soul Weekender.
Skiing was fine, apart from that time my nice hire skis got stolen and replaced by a pair of planks, which caused a triple somersault with added twists and resulted in a broken skis. Just the skis, thankfully.
Caister was completely mis-sold to me.I was told everyone wore pyjamas for a whole week, no-one goes to bed, and there’s sex and drugs on tap. Erm, nope. It was still brilliant though.
It never occurred to me to have any other ambitions.
Then a fellow writer asked on Facebook: What’s your non-writing ambition? (It goes without saying that we, as writers, all want to win awards and earn lots of money, doesn’t it?) But fame and fortune is an ambition I’ve personally never really had. I mean, a simple BAFTA would do.
Having thought about it, I realised my ambition was to be just famous enough to appear on Strictly Come Dancing. Not too famous, not Eastenders cast member famous, more Stacey Dooley levels of “Who is that woman? Where do I know her from? She seems familiar but I just can’t place her” type famous.
If I can earn a living as a writer without having to appear on telly (except for House of Games and Pointless, I’ll do those, and not because I fancy Richard Osman. Really, I don’t) then that would suit me very well.
I’ve got it all planned out. I’d have to be with Giovani, Aljaz or Johannes because, tall, remember? Preferably Giovanni but that’s for purely selfish cougar-like reasons. Hubby hates Strictly so I can work on invoking the Strictly curse.
I would need to find out in advance if I can choose my music though, since I’m extremely fussy. The thought of having to dance to some piece of pop pap makes me shudder, quite frankly. It could even be a deal-breaker.
Should we make it through to Movie Week, I’d beg for a Paso Doble to the ‘Help Arrives’ score from Avengers Infinity War, done up like a female Captain America. Seriously, it’s a bloody fantastic epic piece of music, perfect for a Paso. And yes, in case you don’t know me well, I’m extremely sad when it comes to both Strictly and Captain America. I’d even be prepared to jump off the gantry into a superhero landing, though I do have vertigo and would probably break a leg, as well as throw up.
It’s a no-brainer to do it though, isn’t it? Even if I had a major memory block, an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction and went out first, I’d still get at least three weeks full time dance training with Giovanni, and two weekends of being BUBARred (blinged up beyond all recognition). What’s not to love?