Adventure Travel for the Uninitiated

“I can’t believe it – my perfect job and they’ve offered me an interview!”

Naomi’s shaking hands clutch the letter so tightly it crumples beyond recognition.

“Mum, did you hear me?”

“What, love? I heard your voice...not sure what you were saying.”

Naomi repeats slowly, “I’ve got an interview.”

“Naomi, that’s really great.” The flatness of her voice is at odds with the words.

Her mother Deirdre is absent mindedly deadheading a Christmas rose on the dresser. These days most of her time is spent on such aimless activities. Naomi can’t help thinking of the contrast with the dynamic character she had known when she was growing up.

Deirdre hadn’t actually said, “Interview for what?” but Naomi knows that was what she was thinking. She takes her mother’s hand, trying not to worry about contamination.

“Mum, it’s the ‘Out of This World’ film company. You know, the one I told you about, looking for a screen writer. Damian Stevens wants to meet online on Thursday.”

Deirdre’s face lifts into a vague smile, trying to reflect Naomi’s excitement.

These fragmented encounters with her Mum always make Naomi feel edgy. Today, with the prospect of a big challenge in less than two days’ time, she is beside herself.

Running upstairs, she intones the number of each step and rushes into the bathroom to scrub her hands before finding retreat in her bedroom. She heads for the dressing table where an array of ceramic horses, collected over the years, waits patiently for her attention. It is Naomi’s go-to place when she is stressed and her pulse slows as she strokes their glossy manes.

How am I going to get through this?

Naomi knows her brain is wired differently. As a young child she was trailed round endless specialists, feeling like a circus exhibit. No one could quite get her.

Primary school was a nightmare, even with one-to-one support. She couldn’t bear looking at her teachers while they were speaking, preferring to gaze out of the window. Yes, she could answer their questions but only when her senses weren’t on overload. Secondary school was even worse, the noise in class and in the corridors made her shut down completely on bad days. On good ones she would live in the library, mopping up everything she could read.

She’s come a long way. Writing is escapism and she is good. Very good, in fact.

Even now as an adult, every new experience is an adventure for Naomi. Unlocking her creativity by peeling away layers of fear, agitation and obsession is like navigating an impenetrable jungle. Here is her dream job within reach, but it will take all her strength to focus on what needs to be done.

Her ears are ringing with a roaring tsunami of ideas.

First, she tackles her appearance which hasn’t received attention since she took on caring for Deirdre. Frantic to make a good impression, she unearths a hair dye she had bought the previous year on a reckless shopping spree. Two hours later, Naomi doesn’t recognise the character looking out of the mirror at her. The sachet inviting her to ‘bring a bit of lilac into your life’ is alarmingly true to its word.

Oh shit, this is not what I was expecting.

After another hour of repeated washing, her head is raw and hair virtually unchanged. Making an impression is one thing, but she really didn’t want to look this zany.

“Just stop!” she says sharply to no one in particular.

Her mind is flying all over the place. Downstairs, Deirdre is asleep so Naomi takes George, their cocker spaniel for a walk round the block in the drizzle. Both shiver with relief when they get home.

“Let’s have a practice run for this interview, George.”

Naomi ushers the sleepy dog into the dining room and gets her laptop out of a drawer. Plugged into the extension socket, it bursts into life. She opens the camera app and looks anxiously at herself.

Averting her eyes, she says, “So tell me, Miss Johnson, what motivates you in life?”

Naomi’s clipped accent is perfect for an inquisitor and catapults her into a panic.

She gulps. Bugger, I can’t do this.

Shutting her eyes, she shakes her head and tries again. “Miss Johnson, we have the bones of a new plot. Set in 2065, a lone family is camped up in the basement of the old Town Hall. Where would you take it from here?”

Now, Naomi is in the zone and launches easily into an elaborate and inspired storyline. This sets the pattern for the next 36 hours.

Her solitary question and answer sessions are interspersed with preparing meals for her Mum…and George…and sleep.

Fifteen minutes before the Zoom interview, Naomi has had six changes of outfit. Her hair still looks weird, but at least it is styled well. The horses in her room have had a final grooming, and she’s ready. Petrified, but ready. She logs into the session and waits anxiously for the host to let her in. Ever intuitive, her faithful hound hops in and out of his basket, enjoying the game.

“George, please. Just stay still.”

Oblivious, he jumps up at Naomi and with a deft flick of a shovel-like paw, swipes her laptop onto the tiled floor. With a sickening crack, the screen snaps in two.

“No, no, no! This can’t be happening. George, what have you done?”

Butter-wouldn’t-melt eyes look up at Naomi from his basket, now a welcome refuge.

She grabs the laptop from the floor, pressing keys wildly. There are no signs of life.

After all my preparation, I’ve ruined it.

Naomi sits down heavily. Her eyes are burning with fear, disappointment, rage.

The inevitability of failure.

George dares to leap back out of his basket to nuzzle her, comforting Naomi enough for her to think straight. Rummaging in her handbag, she finds her phone clinging on to a mere shred of charge. With shaking hands she plugs it in, visualising the interview team already striking her off the list of candidates.

“Well George, we’ll give it ten minutes on charge then I’ll phone.”

Naomi cannot believe that today, of all days, fate has conspired for her to be running late for possibly the most important interview of her life. Well, actually she can believe it. These things happen to her and in her mind, rarely to others. It’s just another facet of the unfairness of life. The bum cards are in her pack, yet she knows she has so much to offer.

Pacing in frustration, Naomi jumps when her phone rings.

“Yes, it’s me. Look I’m so sorry…”

“Oh. Unavoidable delay, you say?” Naomi suppresses a scream of relief.

“Well, yes, I think that would be OK.”

“So, I’ll wait to receive the new link and meet you this afternoon at 4 o’clock.”

“Great, thanks Mr Stevens, I’ll see you then!”

“Bye. Bye. Bye-bye now.”

George sees Naomi leaping around, hands fluttering and eagerly joins her.

“Oh George, I’ve got a second chance. Can you believe it?”

Naomi goes through to the door of the sunroom where Deirdre is resting, unaware of the unfolding drama.

“I’m off into town Mum, be back soon. No need to answer the door if anyone knocks.”

There’s plenty of parking at the Electronics store and looking at the prices, Naomi is pleased she’s insured for accidental damage. She chooses an upgrade she’s been eyeing for a while.

Back home with the laptop set up, well out of George’s reach, Naomi needs one final change of clothes. Now, she really is ready. The meeting in progress, her video activates and Naomi looks in awe at the unexpected line up of eminent producers.

After introducing them, Damian launches straight in. “So tell me, Miss Johnson, or may we call you Naomi, what motivates you in life?”

Suffice to say, the job is hers.