City lights on country lanes...

Some weeks pass by relatively quietly, and yet others seem to teem with so many events and coincidences that even the most staunch believers in the lessons of life are left scratching their heads in disbelief.

A few years ago I remember watching the Oprah Winfrey show (in the days when I had the time to do that....) and she had a guest whose name escapes me, but I seem to think he was called Jim for some inexplicable reason (I'm pretty sure he has a surname too, but surnames have never been my forte). Jim talked about the lessons that life shows us on a daily basis, and he explained that there was a lesson in everything that happened in our lives, but it was up to us to decide whether we wanted to take notice of that lesson or not. In other words, seek, and ye shall find.

His words touched me to the point that they still echo around my head at times. At times like this last week.

It all started on Tuesday evening when I had a very pleasant evening recalling with my paramour our lost youths and the people we knew. I should point out this is not an over-populated county, so it was a bit of a surprise, but not a huge one, when we discovered that many of our "friends" had been mutual. He commented that it was amazing that we hadn't met in that previous existence, and if I had been sufficiently illuminated I'm sure I would have said that fate had determined that the time was not right and we had our respective spiritual paths to tread first, but I'm almost certain I didn't so I probably just nodded in agreement.

And I probably just nodded in agreement because I was recalling the rather uncomfortable feeling I had all those years ago, simply because I didn't quite fit into the "set" we were talking about. The "set" had the right surnames, the benefit of a private education and their families had land. I had none of those things but I had a reasonably pretty face which goes a long way in most circles, but never quite far enough in the one we were talking about.

My paramour, needless to say, was part of the "set".

Two rather large glasses of wine into the conversation and I'm feeling like I've been sent straight back to nineteen years of age, insecurity, wide eyes and all.

The morning breaks however, and I'm forty-five again, and I've recaptured the gloriously unyielding twenty-six years that took that wide-eyed nineteen year old and turned her into the woman I am today. Given the choice I would have preferred an easier ride, but I have no issue with who I've become, because today I see the outmoded class system we have in the UK as just that, outmoded.

Yesterday at precisely 9.37a.m. I skipped onto a train at Newark and skedaddled down to London for the day. I had a couple of meetings lined up; the first with a business contact I had been networking with and the second was an altogether glamorous affair, a photo shoot for a glossy women's monthly to accompany an interview I had already given.

As I alighted from the train (remembering to take all my belongings with me and minding the gap...) I wondered how the day was going to pan out. You see the last time I was in London in a work capacity was over five years ago, before my son was born, when I was working in a corporate sales job that I was quite good at but that I secretly hated. I earned lots of money, but the relentless commuting, the pressure and the perpetual inter-company politicking that went on was enough to dull the sparkle of the city for me.

I drove off in the taxi along the Marylebone Road and passed some of my familiar landmarks; the bust of JFK by Great Portland Street tube, the Globe pub opposite Madame Tussuad's where I and a colleague had celebrated a particularly good sales pitch, and the Landmark Hotel where I had met my much-missed colleague Jane Minnick a few times to discuss sales strategies.

Jane was a very loud, opinionated American who worked as an account manager for our chief supplier. She was outspoken to the point of occasionally being obnoxious, but when she laughed you could not help but laugh with her. She drove me nuts with her arrogance, but when you were in on her joke, it would make you cry with laughter. I recall one time when she called me bearly able to speak because she was laughing so hard at an e-mail I had sent her; I can't recall detail but I believe the e-mail was titled "Who is Jack Schitt" and Jane laughed like a drain. It was, in fairness, a pretty hilarious little ditty, but that is how I remember her, because two years later Jane was killed in a car crash. Yes, she was loud, but she was also larger than life, and sadly a life that is no longer with us.

So, I'm on the Marylebone Road heading out towards Ealing for my first meeting with Corinne. As I'm passing through the streets I'm realising that the heavy heart I had the last time I was here has gone; now it is all exciting, full of promise and allure.

I spend a fascinating hour with Corinne who, as a talented musician, producer and businesswoman, cannot fail to inspire. She tells me of the wealth dynamics profiling system that has enabled her to identify that she is a "creator", someone who is constantly bombarded with new ideas that sadly don't see implementation and fruition because the next set of ideas nudge them off the board. This sounds so strangely familiar. Corinne tels me that wealth dynamics profiling enables you to slay your demons in whichever quarter they may lurk.

This is something I need to do. And pronto....

On to meeting number two, said photo shoot which takes place at a very plush house (the residence of a highly respected actor). I know I am going to like it as I am shown through the house and there are hairstylists and makeup artists at work and lots of ladies shouting "fabulous, love!"

Sharon, the rather gorgeous picture editor of the mag, takes one look at me and says to her stylist "I'm thinking that little silver Ben di Lisi number for Deborah..."

I respond with "I'm liking the sound of that a lot.."

Two hours then commence of dressing, accessorising, hair being styled, makeup applied and the flash of the bulb as I'm asked to give it my all to the camera. In this respect, dear readers, I had no problem; treat me like I'm someone special and I am that person.

And that is who I was as I sat in the chauffeur-driven Mercedes back to Kings Cross; I was someone special. I realised that someone who maybe thought she wasn't quite good enough at nineteen was actually more than good enough now.

Now it's time to prove just how good.

The bright lights of the city continued to illuminate the road home from Newark station last night, all the way back to my front door. City lights on country lanes...I never thought I'd see it, but it is so very clear to me now.