Proper Job

There was a point where Nigel and I very nearly relocated our family back to my homeland of Cornwall, but in the end fears for job prospects (both ours and our children’s) stopped us.

However, last Sunday night, I had a revelation.  The perfect job had been there waiting for me all along, but I had been too blind to see.

We were watching Poldark when an angry mob burst onto the scene and threatened to lynch Warleggan.  As they shook their fists and roared defiantly in a West Country manner, I rose slightly in my chair.

“I want to do that.  At last, my vocation!”

I should have been an extra - ‘Angry mob, number 14'.

It should have been me! With a kerchief wrapped round my head, brandishing a pitchfork in one hand and a pasty in the other, shouting “Aaaaarh.”

It looked like an occupation which would not only be rewarding from the first day, but would also offer career progression.  Eventually I could hope to become “Angry Mob, number 1” – the one that gets to shout “That’s right, Cap’n Poldark – You tell un!”

And then possibilities for international travel.  I could one day graduate to be one of the mob of angry villagers that besieges the Vampire’s Castle in Transylvania.

Perhaps it’s not too late for me after all.  Where do I find the application form?