As I sat down to write what would be my 99th column in Muscat Daily, and also my last, the sudden storm outside cheered me up inexplicably. We went out to watch the lightning illuminate the sky to the accompanying low growl of distant thunder, the leaves rustling faster and faster - and somehow, adventure suddenly seemed a whole lot closer.
When Mrs Rose Milligan of Lancashire wrote a poem by this name exactly 20 years ago, I don’t think she realised how far around the world her verses would go. It was published in a local women’s magazine called The Lady and had it not been for the Internet and social media, it is indeed doubtful that it’d have reached me here in Muscat.
I was at an Omani Women’s Day lunch earlier this week and the host raised a couple of very interesting questions. What have you done, she asked all of us, to mentor other women, help them come up and learn from your experiences? Having noticed that many of us in the room already knew each other personally, her other question was whether we knew what the other did in her professional capacity.
As a rookie journalist, you take on anything handed to you because all you want to do is to constantly prove you’ve got what it takes. At least that’s how it was when I started out. Anyhow, one of these tasks that I was quite often blessed with, usually on a Saturday, was a book that I had to review and submit by Monday morning.
When I first started working, I remember an assignment where I was sent to interview the upcoming star of Mumbai’s financial world. Perched on the corner of his desk, in a beautiful suit and one brightly striped sock-clad foot on the chair opposite mine, he flashed a big smile and said ‘hey’. “How much cooler could a banker get?” I thought.