As a teenager, when considering my future, I found it difficult to decide which direction my adult professional life should take.
I couldn't decide between being a surgeon, carrying out life saving operations on a daily basis, or a fireman.
Of course, as a fireman, I would be required to rush into burning buildings and face danger and stress of unimaginable proportions, thereby risking life an limb for the safety of others. As a surgeon, as my mother pointed out, the worst that could happen is that I would occasionally go home at nights with small pieces of strangers lodged under my fingernails.
Neither of which seemed very appealing.
I decided to be unemployed instead.
But it didn't last long.
First I managed to fend off the threat of becoming a welder for a company making engine housings (for small boats). It involved dirt and grime and was therefore, obviously, not for someone as delicate as me.
Then came an invitation for an interview for the post of clerical assistant in a newspaper (the Newcastle Journal) office. This too, with the grace and skill of a young Pele, was sidestepped and gleefully avoided.
There were others too!
Morticians assistant in the local hospital ... sounded dead boring!
Farmhand ... hard work!
Supermarket trolley collector ... and endless, poorly rewarded chore!
Oh, they all needed my special skills in one way or another.
But I was a happy-go-lucky teenager and, as my final week as a professional school kid came to an end with the joys of idleness awaiting me, I was oblivious to the impending dangers of life without pocket money!
Yes, as my school career ended, so did the financial support of the Bank of Mum and Dad!
It was a shock, I can tell you!
That is when my cousin Lynn and her husband arrived home from Germany (he was in the Army).
When they came to see us, I thought it was for a cup of tea and a catch-up chat. Little did I know that a plan had been hatched and I was to be kidnapped under the pretext of 'going for a drive' and deposited at the doors of the local Army careers office.
Struggle? Of course I struggled! I fought like a tiger! Blood was spilled (almost).
But, if you had known Lynn, you would also have known that resistance was futile ... and could be painful!
They dragged me in ...
... and I never looked back!
I became a soldier and ... good or bad ... became the man I am today. All through that (violent) encounter with my cousin and her husband.
And, although there have been a few occasions when I have regretted that incident, there have been many, many more when I was grateful for their intervention.
Sometimes you need a helping hand.
Or a kick in the arse!
About This Blog
This blog was originally started as a thread on the forum pages of an animal rescue site. Now it's here!
The articles you find in here are purely for entertainment (yours and mine) and (with one or two exceptions) are all tongue-in-cheek chronicles of the World (my bit, anyway) as I see it.
No disrespect is intended towards anyone unless I make a mistake and make it too obvious.
I hope you enjoy my offerings. Feedback and comments of any kind are welcome.
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