Doris, Sixteen Year Old Misssymartin, and me
Year Old Misssymartin, Doris Day and Me
When I was just a little girl I asked my mother, “What will I be?
Will I be a top journalist, covering breaking news all round the world?
Will I be a defence lawyer going to the wire for my client in every case?
Will I be a writer of non-fiction travelogues that would make people long to follow in my footsteps?
Will I be the first female Director General of the BBC?
Will I be the first Prime Minister of Scotland?
Will I win the Eurovision Song Contest?
“No, you’ll be writing offshore training modules”
Que sera sera…etc.. Thanks Doris.
(Check out how I make no attempt to make that rhyme or fit in with the tune of “Que Sera Sera”. I’m tired and should be in bed. )
Started the freelance job today. Worked til my brain exploded and then scraped it all back into my skull and drove home checking out new Minis on the way to keep me going. Still grimacing wildly at the drivers, by the way.
Funny how life turns out. I wonder what the sixteen year old MisssyM would have to say about all this. I think about that sometimes. I think I would be astonished that someone agreed to marry me for one. I was never very confident on that front. On the career front I think sixteen year old Misssy would be a little confused. She may even be disappointed. In fact I know she would.
Last week some BBC ladies came to speak to my students and very nice they were too. When I was about 20 I would’ve been peeing my pants in excitement at the prospect of getting a foot in the door at the Beeb. Certainly, the general feeling that I got from the women was that people should be peeing their pants in excitement to get in at the Beeb. (Personally, I think anyone wanting to work in telly is better off scoping out the indies, as they make all the programmes these days).
However, I felt completely numb to it. Instead I was excited for my students…and even a little worried for them. What was really on offer here? Unpaid work, digitising and logging tapes for hours on end? The occasional running job, getting coffee for Sally Magnussen? Answering the phones on “Children in Need”? If you’re lucky in five years you might get a researcher’s job on some farming programme that is broadcast on a Sunday afternoon?
Even to get in to do these poorly paid, bottom rung of the ladder running jobs you’d have to jump through a million hoops, “Apprentice” style, to even get shortlisted. Fighting for floor space in a group exercise with some over-confident, over-bearing wannabes that would stifle your every attempt at being heard above them *Shudder*
It’s fine for those who want in…and maybe that was me fifteen years ago, but thank God it’s all over! Something has made me stay in Scotland and take a different path into teaching and writing/producing commercial and technical stuff and it doesn’t bother me anymore that what I said I’d do on leaving school hasn’t happened. Because other things have.
So for now, it’s procedural training, offshore safety and risk assessments for me. Last year it was programmes for schools. You can’t say my life isn’t varied, I s’pose. And I’ve only had to sell a bit of my soul to Satan…..
By the way, you’ve not heard the last of Sixteen year Old MisssyM. She and I have more conversations to have.
Sixteen Year Old Misssymartin, Doris Day and Me
Will I be a top journalist, covering breaking news all round the world?
Will I be a defence lawyer going to the wire for my client in every case?
Will I be a writer of non-fiction travelogues that would make people long to follow in my footsteps?
Will I be the first female Director General of the BBC?
Will I be the first Prime Minister of Scotland?
Will I win the Eurovision Song Contest?
“No, you’ll be writing offshore training modules”
Que sera sera…etc.. Thanks Doris.
(Check out how I make no attempt to make that rhyme or fit in with the tune of “Que Sera Sera”. I’m tired and should be in bed. )
Started the freelance job today. Worked til my brain exploded and then scraped it all back into my skull and drove home checking out new Minis on the way to keep me going. Still grimacing wildly at the drivers, by the way.
Funny how life turns out. I wonder what the sixteen year old MisssyM would have to say about all this. I think about that sometimes. I think I would be astonished that someone agreed to marry me for one. I was never very confident on that front. On the career front I think sixteen year old Misssy would be a little confused. She may even be disappointed. In fact I know she would.
Last week some BBC ladies came to speak to my students and very nice they were too. When I was about 20 I would’ve been peeing my pants in excitement at the prospect of getting a foot in the door at the Beeb. Certainly, the general feeling that I got from the women was that people should be peeing their pants in excitement to get in at the Beeb. (Personally, I think anyone wanting to work in telly is better off scoping out the indies, as they make all the programmes these days).
However, I felt completely numb to it. Instead I was excited for my students…and even a little worried for them. What was really on offer here? Unpaid work, digitising and logging tapes for hours on end? The occasional running job, getting coffee for Sally Magnussen? Answering the phones on “Children in Need”? If you’re lucky in five years you might get a researcher’s job on some farming programme that is broadcast on a Sunday afternoon?
Even to get in to do these poorly paid, bottom rung of the ladder running jobs you’d have to jump through a million hoops, “Apprentice” style, to even get shortlisted. Fighting for floor space in a group exercise with some over-confident, over-bearing wannabes that would stifle your every attempt at being heard above them *Shudder*
It’s fine for those who want in…and maybe that was me fifteen years ago, but thank God it’s all over! Something has made me stay in Scotland and take a different path into teaching and writing/producing commercial and technical stuff and it doesn’t bother me anymore that what I said I’d do on leaving school hasn’t happened. Because other things have.
So for now, it’s procedural training, offshore safety and risk assessments for me. Last year it was programmes for schools. You can’t say my life isn’t varied, I s’pose. And I’ve only had to sell a bit of my soul to Satan…..
By the way, you’ve not heard the last of Sixteen year Old MisssyM. She and I have more conversations to have.
