I grew up many years ago in a convent boarding school where my parents sent me for a better education while they hosted cocktail parties and were diplomatic over dinner.
Here my wings were clipped and I was bound to the stone corridors and cobbled courtyards of a 9th century manor house. I learned to practice piano, polish my shoes and debate heatedly, I performed in operettas as leading men and prima ballerinas. I didn’t find my singing voice until years when later when I filled a nursery with children who appreciated my efforts having no precedent to compare me with.
My leadership skills are wide and varied, some may have called me bossy as a young girl and as I’ve aged gracefully I tend to speak my mind although I now realise I do care how people find me.
I began as head girl of my school and after taking exams I did not stray very far from my cage and attended an all girls Catholic college in London where three hundred teachers were turned out onto the streets each year from Digby Stuart alone, to make their living among children.
I was 21 and my charges ranged in age from 16-17, not much of a gap.
My fledgling wings carried me to an Island off the Northern coast of france or the Southern coast of England depending on your point of view and there I furiously raced motor boats until capsizing and dampening my enthusiasm. I turned my full attnetion on managing first a seaside cafe, bar and full restaurant and then a frozen food centre to keep the business running for the locals during the cold, dark days of winter. Alongside a master butcher I found that operating a band saw and cutting off heads, arms and legs to be weighted, priced and bagged teetered on the bizarre.
I travelled further south and landed in Southern Andalucia where I took up water ski-ing and wind surfing and generally lying around getting a tan. I learned how to speak Spanish which left me when I returned to my English soil, much as the German did when I was a child, and ate a ton of Spanish food expanding my culinary skills from a traditional roast or a fry up to rice and fish dishes to swoon over.
When I’d done with swooning and was good and brown I returned to London to pick up where I’d left off, which was, I had forgotten, ah yes, teaching, so I worked at a car rental place near Vicoria station which was busy from 8am to 8pm with never a break. Smewhere among the crowds of tourists waiting for their cars, I met my blue eyed cowboy. He spotted me first, he was just another American to my ear and I left for Texas with professional driving skills under my belt, which I needed when I hit the freeways of Dallas in his pristine BMW.
I was manager of the phone room for Ticketmaster for ten years and here is where I learend to write memos, chair meeting, hire staff and fire them, compose training manuals, keep the computer room on its toes with my demands to make my life easier when selling shows and account financially for every penny, well cent, that passed across my desk as tickets.
I had all my children while working fulltime and it wasn’t until they started to amuse me with their ways of expressing themselves with my office markers and papaerclips, that I took the leap and came full circle to begin to homeschool them.