THE BEGINNING

IT was a fresh sunny autumn day afteran audition in London's chilly west-end in my 36th year when it finally dawned on me that I was in the wrong career. What took me so long, I hear you ask? Well it's a difficult thing to realise, I mused when you've had a modicum of success in any field. Who's to say that your time is up? There might be that one spectacular job just around the corner or up the road or through the park of whatever that might springboard you to who knows where!

Only I knew absolutely without a doubt that it would not on that sunny afternoon in chilly London town.

Looking back I could be forgiven for thinking that life might have been sweet for me by now after an auspicious start. Not everyone achieved a degree in English literature from a reputable University and an entry into London's West End theatre by the age of 26 (albeit a gentleman's degree and a chorus part). As I reflected on days of glory I recognised that there had been as many days of hopelessness.

London was such a fantastic place I thought as I paced across Waterloo Bridge the strong breeze whipping against my face and stinging my cheeks. It was ao alive, so pulsating, brimming with possibility. There just had to be more to life than existing on going from job to unsatisfying job. the frustrating part was that I always felt life should be this fantastic and glorious experience all the time, otherwise, I thought kicking the autumn leaves in frustration, what on earth was the point?

I came to the edge of the bridge and turned up towards Covent Garden. Nowhere really to go and nothing to do having taken the day off from my ridiculous temp job as a letting agent I was as free as a bird but I felt trapped. I turned into the Piazza and looked at the street theatre. Such passion and enthusiasm! Even in the wind and the rain these performers would be there touting their wares. I felt lost and sad. I knew I no longer felt that way about being a performer if I could not reach the dizzy heights that I had set for myself.

Time had run out. It was autumn alright and when winter came that would be it. Freezing, icy and desolate. Though not too bad if you were lucky enough to have a nice winter coat and some hot soup. I smiled. It was not in my nature to be depressed for too long. It didn't really suit me. But I knew something had to change soon. Or my period needed to arrive. One or the other.