I’ve been upstaged in ambition by an 11 year old. Or perhaps not in ambition alone, but in the confidence in that ambition. A few days ago I was serving a woman in the shop who was buying a charm for her daughter. She explained how she bought a charm for every show her daughter was in. This – of course – got me interested and made me fondly remember when I was in shows at that age. This time the performance was Peter and the Wolf, last time it was cats and next she needed to buy a roller skate charm. “Is the next show Starlight Express?” I ventured, and of course it was.
Turns out this girl is quite the dancer: “does she want to be a dancer?” I asked. “No” was the surprising response, “she wants to be a writer, but she just loves to dance”. Ah, I thought, she must want to write for stage. Apparently not, she wants to be a novelist has just won a scholarship on her writing ability but (sensibly) thinks she’ll have to be a journalist to make a living – “And she’s only 11”. “Wow. I’m a writer too” I say, getting back to polishing the jewellery.