How many of us followed the path we thought we’d take when we were teenagers? How many were encouraged—or nudged—into a path by others, rather than pursuing what we truly wanted? And how many had no idea what we wanted to do, simply following the twists and turns life threw at us?
As a teenager, I had a somewhat surprising ambition: I wanted to be an accountant. Where that idea came from is still a mystery to me. My father, on the other hand, thought I’d make a great nurse. Seriously—me, a nurse? I even got accepted into a nursing college (yes, those existed back then). But before I started, I had a moment of clarity: this was absolutely the wrong path for me.
In a rare moment of teenage bravery, I backed out. Instead, I went to study OND Business Studies, which seemed to make more sense for someone like me, someone who couldn’t quite stick to a conventional path. Even then, I had an entrepreneurial streak, and I knew I’d struggle to fit into traditional roles.
My first marriage was into a family that had a large property portfolio, and before long, I found myself working in that business. But technology was always something that fascinated me, even when it was in its infancy. Then one day, something happened that changed the course of my life forever.
The story starts with a golf ball typewriter. Yes, those were a thing once. I needed a new one, and in those days, that would set you back about £300—a significant amount of money. But instead of buying a typewriter, I came home with a personal computer. It cost an eye-watering £2,000 and boasted a revolutionary one megabyte of memory. It also came with 32 floppy discs.
That was the moment I caught the bug.
I’d bought the computer on a Saturday, but the engineer couldn’t come to set it up until Monday. That didn’t sit well with me. So, I spent the entire weekend figuring it out myself. I affectionately named the computer Mabel—in fact, I’ve had a string of them since, and I’m currently on Mabel #12.
I sat on the floor, endlessly tinkering, booting it up, wiping it accidentally (and repeatedly), and trying again. Finally, after 48 hours, I managed to get to the command prompt.
I’ll never forget that feeling: yay!
From then on, I was hooked. I became fascinated with technology, teaching myself everything I could. Those 32 floppy discs were both a blessing and a curse, but they turned out to be my greatest teachers. It was a long way from a typewriter, and I knew I’d found something I truly loved.
Looking back, I realise how much of life is about embracing unexpected moments, trusting your instincts, and being brave enough to change direction when something doesn’t feel right. I didn’t become an accountant—or a nurse. Instead, I found a path that combined my love of technology with a desire to make a difference.
This journey also shaped my perspective on how foundational reading is to all learning. Reading isn’t just a skill; it’s a gateway to knowledge, opportunity, and choice. For children, it’s transformative—it equips them to navigate life and create their own paths. That’s what inspired me to create Fonetti, a platform designed to help children read with confidence, unlocking doors to new possibilities.
Just as my life took unexpected turns that led to opportunities I hadn’t imagined, I hope Fonetti helps children build the skills and confidence to embrace their own journeys, wherever they may lead.
In fact, when I think about it, technology became my path because it spoke to a part of me that craves challenge and creativity. The problem-solving, the trial and error, and that sense of achievement when something finally works—it’s addictive. It’s also shaped my career in ways I never could have planned as a teenager dreaming about accountancy.
The lesson? It’s never too late to pivot, to follow your curiosity, or to take a risk. The path you think you’re on may not always be the one that’s right for you, and that’s okay.
So, if you’re still searching for your “Mabel moment,” don’t worry. It’s never too late to start again. The beauty of life—and the new year—is that it’s all about change. Who knows? 2025 might just be the year you find your own command prompt moment.
