NORTHERN PLANNER

Someone very dear to me has one of those rare opportunities to make a completely fresh start career wise. Quite literally, what do I want to do? The choice is mine.

In this case, the choice is archaology (said individual is sick of every thinking they’re the first to make the Indiana Jones connection).

How perfectly wonderful and terrifying all at once. What what you choose to do? What will make you truly happy? Are you curious about how good you would be at something totally diferent? Are you lucky enough to be one of the best at what you do, but given the chance, do you think you would be average at something else but love it more?

I have my own coffee shop dream – a little restaurant in St Ives with my best loved recipes. I know a few planning blog type people would come, but even if it was a heroic failure, it might be nice to find out. I’m not the best cook in the world, but my food tastes of love.

I was great at swimming, but merely good at tennis. I would have given anything for that to be other way around. Forget being Federer, just to play tennis all day and get paid would be great.

And then there’s the nagging, suspected idea that there’s a university politics department, or a think tank somewhere missing an international relations specialist (I loved this bit as a a student but I was a coward – knowing a little bit about how the world really works scared me to death).

Come to think of it, I’ve sort of done it in my own little way. It was only the move from suit to planner, but it was still a leap of faith back then, a pretty safe one I grant you. That’s sort of worked out.

One of the very best planners I know told me that the first few years of his career was a waste of time until he made the leap. Wrong agencies, wrong job (suit), wrong industry before that. Now I don’t entirely agree with that. The journey is sort of the point, makes you appreciate it when you get there.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this. I think I mean that life is full of possibility, sometimes it’s better to remain curious, sometimes chances need to be grasped. And sometimes you just don’t know how lucky you are. But the fantasy of starting again is a sweet, bitter secret we all carry.