First flat; first job.

I was recently reminded of my first flat (bed-sit) in London's Inverness Terrace, Bayswater, and my working life that surrounded it. My flat was dingy, basic, and soul-less; and it cost 4 guineas a week.

After school I really didn't know what to do. I'd turned down an offer to study architecture, so plumped for The Stock Exchange instead. It seemed like a respectable alternative.

The main requirements for a young prospective broker (in those days) was dress and maths. Dress code was very important; pinstriped suit, striped shirt with white loose collar, navy tie with white spots, bowler, brolly, and pink newspaper under one arm. In the maths dep't, one had to be able to add and subtract.

I began my City work by commuting daily from the South Coast, but that soon became a nightmare, so I took the flat in Bayswater to cut about 3 hours from my daily travel.

I hated almost every minute of my time in The City, even though I did my job pretty well. The only bits I really enjoyed were when out of the office, strutting down to either Throgmorton or Threadneedle Streets, wearing a freshly brushed silk topper. It was a pleasant part of my City life, not being behind some horrible desk, or running around between brokers and jobbers. I always took my time.

After a very healthy, and totally unexpected, bonus, I happily quit my job, spent a couple of very pleasant lazy weeks in Paris, then was offered a job managing a small West End Gallery in Devonshire St W1. 

My life changed completely, and every day became a pleasure rather than a chore. I became instantly relaxed, and stress-free. Work-wise, I started to make my own decisions, and not live by those of others.

Since those days I have never taken any job that I didn't enjoy; other than a Summer student job doing house removals; but as a student, you do anything.