Squirreling away

When you saw your careers officer at school, you were never encouraged to become a squirrel.

I wanted to be a squirrel as, on TV, growing up in the ‘60s, they had the best jobs; were massively popular and hugely responsible.

I’d have liked to have been Tufty.  He had many friends: one was called Willy Weasel (which wouldn’t be allowed on TV these days, and actually sounds like some kind of STD).  Tufty’s full name was Tufty Fluffytail.  I think, if ever I consider a role as a drag queen, this would be my stage name.

Slightly more adventurous, and without the nagging mum, was Secret Squirrel.  He had a coat which housed many weapons to fight crime. Although, because I have bad eyesight, I’d probably would have been better as his sidekick, Morocco Mole.

I can only assume, as I was told that a career in advertising is what I should seriously consider, that the lack of O-levels I achieved in 1973, meant that being a squirrel was never on the cards.

It was, however, while revising for my O-Levels in my Balham flat (Squirrel was an O-level option you could take back then), I discovered squirrels only lived for about five years.   Advertising it is, then! Atom Ant would have to find another crime-fighting partner.

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