The little girl who wanted to be an Egyptologist.

When I was 7 years old, I decided I wanted to be an Egyptologist. That's something rather specific for a seven year old, but it's what I wanted to do. Those bloody Egyptians absoloutely fascinated me, everything about them just appealed to me. I became obsessed. I soaked up every documentary on television that I possibly could. I read books and books and books, anything I could lay my hands on. I think I must have bored my mother to death with it all.

The next year at school, Ancient Egypt was on the curriculum, along with Ancient Greece. Whether it was the epic teaching skills of Mrs Stamp or just that I was so engrossed in the Egyptian theme I'll never know, but that was probably the most favourite year of school I ever did have. The year before, we had studied the Romans and Vikings. The Egyptians and Greeks were, to me, much more fascinating than the stuffy old Romans who seemed much too preoccupied with counting things for my liking. As for Vikings, who needed them? Egyptians had Mummies! And cats! And magnificent Pyramids! Not boring old long boats and funky pottery filled grave sites.

Being a few miles down the road from Durham's small but, in my opinion (being a local lass and all) awesome Oriental Museum, we borrowed some artifacts for class. Everyone else thought that the little wooden man dug up somewhere in Egypt and dating back thousands of years was boring. Not me. I found it amazing. It touched me to be holding something so old. Who had made it so? Why did they do it? We visited the museum a few times, and I just couldn't get my head around the fact that here was a real dead Egyptian. All wrapped up in bandages, of course, but that tightly packed thing was a real Ancient Egyptian who had lived a life seemingly so exotic and mysterious to me. If only they were still alive to tell their tale...

This was a fascination that would stick with me throughout my Primary School career and well into my first few years of Secondary School. But then we began to learn more interesting things. Like, when you put potassium into water, it does something real pretty and exciting. Geography too became more interesting. I discovered Volcanoes. And then our Biology teacher got the microscopes out for us to play with...

By the time we were fourteen and had to choose our GCSE's, all of my teachers had me convinced that I had to choose my career there and then. I don't think they ever actually said that, but that was the impression I got. The subjects I'd pick would determine the rest of my future. Thing is, I had all these years been adament I was going to be an Egyptologist. Yes, I still held on to all of that, but going to "the big school" had opened my eyes to the wonderful world around me, and I loved it all. Not every lesson was thrilling, but asside from two subjects (maths and PE and ok I suppose briefly German because of a rather nasty incident with the teacher I wish not to get into here) I couldn't claim I didn't like school.

So, I decided that after our end of year 9 tests, whichever test I did the best at would obviously be the subject around which I would base my future career. The test I did best in was Geography, and the modules had all been about Volcanoes and Earthquakes and Tsunamis. I decided then and there I would not be an Egyptologist after all, but would instead become a Geologist.

Everything I did from then on was based around this fact in my head, that I was the master of my own destiny (not my mum, who seemed to have designs on me going into music. I quickly put an end to that little theory when I put music as my least favoured GCSE option and quit my flute and piano lessons in an act of outright rebellion against her single minded designs) and my chosen destiny was; Geologist. Specifically specialising in volcanology or seismology, whichever I seemed to be best in.

Actually, what it turned out I was best at was identifying rocks and paeloenvironments, but at the age of fourteen I didn't even know what a paleoenvironment was so, you know...

Then six form college came and it all fell apart. What happened at University happened, that was a shame, but tonight as I realise that with the few paltry qualifications I have I'm going to find it difficult to work anywhere more significant than poundland unless I get really lucky, I am kicking myself for not doing better in my A levels.

I've been looking into going back to college or university, juggling a whole lot of considerations. Do I do something practical? Do I do something I'm interested in, knowing that if my interest isn't held I quickly slip away (as with the music lessons when the dreaded onslaught of scales marched upon me) but that it won't necissarily get me anywhere further in my career aspirations. What are my career aspirations? What do I actually want to do? When I bring up ideas all I can see are problems, and when I bring up solutions they seem to be shackled by monetary or geographical limitations.

More irritatingly, they seem to be held back by the very fact that, in the past, I failed to live up to expectations and eventually left University with nothing to show for my name but a mountain of debt.

When I left, I went to the school office to fill in the forms, admitting my recent 'escapades' and that I was leaving due to the related health concerns. One of my favourite lecturers, a dumpy old lady called Jenny (though I can't for the life of me remember her last name!) who taught soil science came up to me and comforted me. She knew what I meant by "health" concerns as she had tried to offer me some help only weeks before.

"It's a shame to see you go, you've been a joy in my lectures. You always have something to say, that's so refreshing!"

I smiled weakly as I scribbled down my excuses onto the form. I'd had a similar conversation a year and a half ago with my TESOL lecturer as I switched courses from Spanish to Geoscience. In this case, I sneered inwardly to myself, perhaps always having something to say was what got me into this mess.

"Well don't worry. Give it a few years and you can come back and finish. I'll vouch for you!"

I wish that she could. After an unsuccesful few days of job hunting (as in I've applied for everything possible and nothing new that I'm qualified or experienced enough to do is being posted) I decided to give it a wee peek tonight and discovered that my course, or anything related to it, is no longer offered by my old university. The only comparable subject now seems to be Geography, and even then only in the general sense...no Geology, no Geoscience, no Paleontology, no Physical Geography...

I decided to look for the languages just out of interest, but there were none. Any trace of any subject I'd ever studied there was gone. So there was no going back for me to complete my degree. I'd either have to start a new one from scratch or transfer my credits to a different University. Only trouble being that the only other University near by doing anything like my course is Liverpool University, an institution which demands a much higher standard of A level than I have.

I looked at the other University, Liverpool Hope, and saw they do a couple of interesting looking courses. I may yet decide to see if I can get onto one of those, for the sake of having a degree and trying to make something of my life. I could see myself studying religion and theology there just to fulfill an interest of mine, then going on to be a teacher. It's more than I have now for sure. It's more than I'll ever have, so it seems, unless I go back into education of some sort.

I then decided to look at Liverpool University's prospectus, just to amuse my fantasy of completing my Geoscience studies. As I scrolled down through the alphabetical list of undergraduate programmes, I noticed something, something I'd always thought since a careers advice meeting when I was twelve (I wish they'd give us careers advice now when it could actually be useful!) could only be taken as a post graduate degree.

Egyptology: BA (Hons)

I laughed and wondered how things might have turned out if I'd known back when I was choosing my GCSE's what I know now. And then, since I was having trouble putting my mind to rest over it all, I decided to write the story of a seven year old girl who wanted nothing more than to be an Egyptologist.