I wasn’t allowed to learn typing at my girls’ school. Instead we were exhorted to aim for bigger things, more politically correct ambitions – becoming the lawyers, doctors and accountants of the next generation. They didn’t expect that any of their ‘gels’ would want to learn typing, or shorthand. But back then in 1983 they weren’t really thinking about careers that pivoted on your ability to type.
I wanted to be a journalist back in those days, so after I completed my degree I studied typing and shorthand at night classes. But even I couldn’t have been foresighted enough to envisage a world that pivoted on the keyboard and your ability to finger-dance across the keys.
Careers like blogging and social media didn’t exist back then. Hell, they didn’t even really exist ten years ago.
This is me working late (again), tapping away on my keyboard in the soft light of my corner of a quiet lounge. My only company is Stella the Tonkinese, who warms herself by the laptop fan’s vent. Thankfully I’m quick on the keys now, I could easily pick up typing or even the dreaded data entry gig, should this marketing/blogging gig not come off.
I wonder what the old headmistress, Pud, would think of that!
Would that be an act of non-conformism, right up there with wearing non-regulation underwear under our school black watch tartan tunic?
I mentally give her the finger….
…..and keep on tap, tap, tapping happily away, fingers to the bone….