Peter Bromhead: Minutiae of a haphazard career

Cartoon / Bromhead

Thanks to James Boswell, who established the formula for what is now known as a biography with the publication of his Life of Samuel Johnson in 1791, I am now being subjected to disclosing the minutiae of my own haphazard career.

Having been pressured by friends and family to allow a professional to produce such a volume before I croak or imbecility overtakes me, I have, with some reluctance, agreed to co-operate in the production of the manuscript.

My hesitation is based partly on modesty, believing that my existence, like most lives, has been pretty humdrum. And naturally, I'm slightly anxious about exposing some of my misguided follies over the decades.

Until starting the interrogation process, I never realised how exhausting fossicking through one's memory banks can be.

The charming lady conducting the research is a trained ex-newshound.

Without going as far as subjecting me to waterboarding, she is forcing me to recall incidents pleasant and mildly horrific that have occurred along the way.

I've reached the conclusion that a successful biographer must have several skills, combining the ability to gently psychoanalyse the subject with skill in the sort of questioning techniques more commonly practised in a police cell.

This week I've been revisiting a very bleak part of the country, where I started my professional career in journalism.

My biographer wanted to see if my farm shed converted into a sort of art studio still existed. Over coffee, I was asked if I had my time again, would I try to make a career out of cartooning? To this I can only give a weary smile.

It's the same smile I offer young innocents who ask me about the possibilities of a career as an editorial cartoonist.

I can only respond by offering the sort of paradoxical statement used as a meditation discipline for monastery novices, called a Zen koan: "Only this very week," I sagely advise, "I've received yet another redundancy to match my 12 awards as a successful cartoonist."

"You mean you've had 12 redundancies, equalling the number of your journalistic awards?" my audience gasps, confused and mystified that success doesn't necessarily relate to the vagaries of employment.

"So, what's the answer?" they continue. "Well," I gloomily conclude, "As one overseas editor wisely suggested this week, try not to win any more awards if you want to stay in business."