In the beginning

I will try and get you up to speed faster than Doctor Who would time travel from Gallifrey to Earth, but without missing out the juicy bits, and we can concentrate on the here and now, if you have the inclination.

There I was in 2005, in a career that had the envy of many.

Lunching at the Ivy, quoffing Chatéux Neuf de Pape (I have an uneducated pallet) and eating a sumptious plate of corned beef hash (I have basic tastes), dealing with very bright types from the advertising world, who, at lunchtime (and sometimes well into the evening) would be the greatest of company, but by the next day, we could be at verbal fisticuffs over the price of a half page advert, temporarily forgetting our good, if not sometimes surface only friendships.

Now that is a bit harsh, as from the newspaper and advertising world I have forged some of the greatest friendships; however, those 'in the industry' will know what I mean.

Of course I am simplifying my job for dramatic effect, but you get the jist.

In February of that year, I finally decided, after long deliberation, that this world, in its current format, was no longer for me.

The industry was and is still, extremely exciting. It allowed you to fulfil a fabulous social life, courtesy of a company expense account, with skiing in the Alps, jollies to international rugby and spa days to pamper yourself and your clients. As with all of these events there was a business purpose to them, and we entertained clients in order to cement relationships and develop the business.

Media sales was full of intelligent individuals, the vast majority of which were fun to be with. The business was fast-paced and taught you to thrive on chaos each and every day, with deadlines to meet and news items affecting your every move.

It was infectious.

But as a family man, I was torn between this seemingly amazing lifestyle and a family life which I loved, as I invariably felt shattered at the end of the working week. I was part of an ever-growing list of fathers that I read about, spending no more than twenty minutes quality time with their children each week – something I wasn’t proud of, or indeed happy with.

Hey, life is not to be full of regrets. I wanted to be 65 and still have the boys wishing to ‘hang around’ with Dad (as much as they would ever want to!) I wanted to enjoy retirement with my wife and not spend the first 5 years trying to build bridges with her. Finallly, I wanted do something that I believed in passionately – developing and dealing with people.

So, in January 2005, I took the plunge and resigned from my post. Many said 'good on you' you'll be great. Some looked at me as if I had suddenly grown two heads, and, without actually saying it, thought I was mad to give up an already successful career.

Many thought that either I joined a religious cult or perhaps won the lottery - neither of which are true - though funnily enough, I think I have strengthened a lapsed faith, but this happened gradually and certainly not at the time of change.

So, after serving a short period of my notice, I left.

Not a relief, more of an initial burden - no job. It was still winter – cold wet and dark – and a happy vision with a game plan.

A game plan that involved my own company - as a consultant cum coach, and a very dizzy dream of writing a book and being a feature writer in a multi-media world.

Mmm my game plan had a few teeny weeny holes in it though - I had no company set-up, a business plan that I'd scratched together and a 'C' in English at 'O' level and was told by my teachers that my essays ‘lacked depth.’All I had was a strong background in sales, negotiation and leadership and a passion for helping people develop – like a personal trainer would at a gym – but in their lives as a whole. Oh yes… and an idea of a book, but not a clue as to where to start.

It seemed such a good idea at the time...