If, four years ago, you had told me that post graduation I would be the voice of a 180 million year old under water prehistoric creature I would have likely laughed. "Don't be silly," I'd of said. "I'll be a hot-shot copywriter living it up in London town wearing funky hats and I'll have a cat who is regarded as the coolest of the cats by the rest who live on the swanky suburban street I call my own." Of course, back then, I also had a Micheal Jackson haircut and my jeans had holes in them because I was grungy and fed up with the world. Also I never really wanted a cat, I'd of preferred a dog, but cats just seem effortlessly stylish and would fit in nicely with my busy capital lifestyle. The idea that after spending thousands of pounds on earning a degree I would end up in the same small city I had been in for my entire life, with only a few funky hats and no cat to speak of seemed like something of a failure. That was the last thing I wanted to do, and I repeatedly told myself this.
"Ash," I said. "Go get a cat and a hat and make something of yourself."
But things change.
I imagine if I did hop off to London town right now I would be broke within a week. All my money, little of it as there is, would go on the train ticket down there and I would have to use my Grade 3 cornet playing skills to earn some loose change outside some seedy pub where people would laugh at my lack of hat or cat and shout mean things like, "Oi, stop playing that cornet badly, you catless hatless freak." This would upset me. And that was going to be the problem all along. For some naive reason there was always a little voice at the back of my mind that told me everyone else would think I was fabulous. I would just walk into a room and people would know, instantly, that I was good for something. I wouldn't have to prove it or make much effort, people would just get a sense of it and life would turn out just fine. Although I was never really sure what sort of people I wanted to impress. Sure, I liked the idea of a cat, but was it really practical? (Prac-cat-itcal? No? No.)
So, practicality came first. I was good at one thing, and that was not playing the cornet. I'd been told once that if I kept on playing I could one of the best cornet players of my generation. Those are true words that were actually spoken, but like all the best mavericks I quickly stopped playing just to prove the bugger who dared have faith in me wrong. I am not currently one of the best cornet players of my generation, nor do I know entirely where said instrument is. It may well be at the back of a wardrobe in my old bedroom in my parent's house gathering a few years worth of dust and thinking to itself, if it were to have a conscience, "If that lanky tit had carried on playing me I could be the cornet that belonged to one of the best cornet players of their generation."
Although, according to some people, I'm a half decent writer.
One thing led to another and now I'm the online presence of an art gallery and museum, and a 180 million year old under water prehistoric creature. Not so funny now, is it, Ash of 4 years ago?
It is a highly unexpected career move, one that gets more and more unusual every day. But it's easily the best thing I've done to date. I have no cat, and wearing a hat to work would likely be frowned upon, but the other day I saw an ancient suit of armour get moved into place and then spent the day telling people about it. I think that's better than a streetwise cat.
It's scary to think that I've been out of university since May now, with only a weekly venture to perform Masters duties keeping me in the loop. Well, in a loop. I went to a party the other week and felt like a cross between that guy who always hangs around despite the fact no-one wants him there and a general pervert who turns up to student parties. Yeah, that was me.
But the day after I got to make a joke on behalf of the previously mentioned 180 million under water prehistoric creature that I think you will agree makes the whole thing worthwhile.
"Went to a party last night," read his Tweet. "Feeling pretty 'rawr' today."
Jealous, aren't you?
