How I’ve Found my Perfect Career

I’ve finally found my perfect career. Well paid, interesting, high-flying.
This is what I’m going to be:
An astronaut.

Don’t think I’ve gone into this without any research. Or much research. Or a passing piece of research. No, I’ve dug trivially into the ESA (European Space Agency for you non-astronaut types) website to discover if I’m properly qualified for the job.

This is what they specified:

Youth – between the ages of 27 and 37. Is that youth? Still some people say I look as young as 38 which is very near 37. My mental age is in single digits as is my emotional age. So, when averaged out I’m about 27.5757. Perfect.

Experience - They must have experienced Real Life – I believe my life has been as genuine as the next space woman’s.

Scientifically Minded – I am the Relationship Physicist after all. They suggest that a degree in science might be a boon. Well I have a degree in miscellany which is surely better. And my daughter will have a degree in physics so that must count.

Patience – anyone who has waited this long for Mr Right has proven that not only do they have patience but they also have idealism, unrealistic expectations and excessive optimism.

Bravery – anyone who has waited this long for Mr Right has proven that not only do they have bravery but they also have idealism, unrealistic expectations and excessive optimism and extraordinary bravery.

Prepared for strange lifestyle – Already there.

Psychologically sound – Well, I sound psychological.

I have written the covering letter for the application:

Dear ESA,
I want to be an astronaut because I believe I will be ideally suited to being an astronaut. The suit will be ideal to cover any unfortunate bumps that exist on my body. The weightlessness will ideally cover my usual lack of balance. The long hours stuck in a confined space with only a few young, experienced, scientifically minded, patient, brave, prepared and sane astronauts will ideally be ideal for my idea of an idealised life.

The applications open 19 May, mine will be first on their spacemat.

How to Get a Seat to Yourself on National Express

I’ve been to London. On a coach. A large, air-conditioned coach that was almost comfortable, aside from the seats. You know, like a large bus, not one of those people who shout at sports people. Or one of those posers who charge you a lot of money for telling you to do something you already intend and want to do, only more slowly. As a quick aside, and as I am very short of money, I feel at this juncture (having just revealed the secret) - Cecilia’s Life, Bodily and Spiritual Coaching Service only costs £30/hr.

For the purposes of this long and potentially not all that inspiring journey I took a personal stereo. Not one of those small objects of desire that hold the entire collection of the world’s music in less space than is required for a clutch of miniature fairies to have an orgy in. No, it was a battered, slightly squeaking and barely functional CD player accompanied by a battered and very granny-like box containing CDs. Now, I could even have opted for a tape player but, come on, I do live in the modern world.

So, there I was having a very jolly time. On the coach, listening to music. The joy of listening to music is that it makes me dance. So, there I was, enjoying myself, grinning, on the coach, seat dancing. Which mostly involves jigging my legs, which happen to be propped on the seat in front, and waggling my head from side to side, which happens to he propped on my neck.

Another joy of listening to music is that it makes me sing. As my family will testify I have an unusual singing voice that has a tendency to rebel against outmoded conventions of melody, rhythm and the diatonic scale.

So, there I was. On the coach, seat dancing and singing and grinning like a jolly person who loves foreign travel. Or it was probably singing. But we all know what happens to someone whose ears are plugged with earphones. The don’t exactly sing. They more go ‘waoha’ and then pause for a bit. Then they go ‘ohdble’ and pause again. This is more often than not followed by a rousing chorus of ‘eblieeel ebideeelble dooooooble’. Particularly when listening to Nat King Cole. Which I was.

It was also quite hot on the coach as we were stuck in the bus station for quite a while waiting for a driver. So, well, I thought maybe no one would notice, I took off a small selection of clothing. So, there I was having a really really jolly time. On the coach, dancing, singing, grinning and half-naked. I do love coach journeys.

I was the only person on the coach to have a seat to themselves. That was an incredible piece of luck really. Because there are a lot of weirdos that people can potentially sit next to on coaches.