My inspiration point

When I was fifteen my mum got me a tutor to help me through exams. He was amazing, he got me to appreciate what I was doing in a new light. He got me the grades I got.

I think so many kids don't see the point. And they don't see themselves as holding potential, so they don't try. And then you end-up being a hairdresser. Not that there is anything wrong with being a hairdresser, but to have that as your only option is a waste. To create opportunities for yourself early-on and then decide to be a hairdresser is a fine thing. To become one because you never grew-up is a tragedy of imprisonment.

My tutor told me I had the ability. He told me the only point that mattered was to get a high grade and to write any answers geared only to that end. We analysed the set questions in past-papers, dissected them to see what was being asked; then answered the nub of the question. He also encouraged me to bring-in extraneous experiences, from every field, to show that I, a fifteen year old girl from a council estate suburb, could see beyond the garden hedge and lift myself above my own cloisters. I didn't know the stuff private school kids know, I didn't need to. My life was as valid as theirs.

I never became a hairdresser. I became a policy analyst for a left wing trans-national group of Euro politicians. I speak three languages. My ride's a Kawasaki.

For twenty quid a week, my mum gave me everything.