30/05/2026
# I Was Going To Be The Next Hans Zimmer
When I was about 13 years old, I had my life planned out.
I was going to be the next Hans Zimmer.
Or John Williams.
Possibly both.
I was going to write music for blockbuster films, drive a black Ferrari around California and become internationally famous.
In my teenage imagination, the whole thing was already mapped out.
I even had my leaving-the-UK party mentally planned.
And when I returned years later, successful and triumphant, people would undoubtedly be delighted to see me.
At least that was the plan.
Fast forward a few years.
I completed my music degree, majoring in composition.
And then...
Nothing.
No Ferrari.
No California.
No film studio executives calling.
No dramatic arrival into the world of film music.
Looking back, ability probably played a part.
Although I was, and still am, a reasonably capable composer.
But with the benefit of hindsight, I think something else was going on.
Something much bigger.
I was completely in love with the destination.
And almost completely uninterested in the journey.
I wanted the success.
I wasn't particularly interested in the thousands of hours required to achieve it.
I wanted the recognition.
I wasn't especially interested in the process.
I wanted the outcome.
Not the work.
The strange thing is that I see this everywhere now.
People want the business.
They don't necessarily want the years of uncertainty.
People want the fitness.
They don't necessarily want the training.
People want the book.
They don't necessarily want the writing.
People want the destination.
The journey is often treated as an inconvenience that must be endured.
But what if that thinking is backwards?
For reasons I still don't fully understand, runners seem to enjoy running.
Not finishing.
Running.
Sailors seem to enjoy sailing.
Not simply arriving at a harbour somewhere.
And people who genuinely love travelling often enjoy the entire experience.
The planning.
The journey.
The discoveries along the way.
Me?
I've always preferred arriving.
Airports, queues and transfers have never been my idea of a good time.
But over the years I've come to realise something.
Most worthwhile achievements are accomplished by people who learn to enjoy the process.
Not because the destination doesn't matter.
It absolutely does.
But because the process is where life actually happens.
Which brings me to teaching.
I still remember my first day as a professional music teacher.
I had left behind a safe, secure and frankly rather dull full-time job.
To earn less than ยฃ80 per week.
Financially speaking, it was not a particularly impressive career move.
There were moments when it felt terrifying.
There were certainly people who thought I was mad.
To be honest, there were days when I thought I was mad.
But something happened.
I fell in love with the work.
Not because every day was easy.
Far from it.
Not because the money was incredible.
It wasn't.
Not because the future felt secure.
It certainly didn't.
But because I genuinely enjoyed watching young people develop.
I enjoyed solving problems.
I enjoyed becoming better at my craft.
I enjoyed the challenge.
I enjoyed the responsibility.
I enjoyed creating something meaningful.
And somewhere along the line, I stopped obsessing about destinations.
That doesn't mean I stopped having ambitions.
Far from it.
Music Kids Academy has ambitions.
I have ambitions.
There are places I want to go and things I want to achieve.
Destinations still matter.
A ship without a destination simply drifts.
But a destination and a journey are not the same thing.
In fact, sailors have a wonderful concept that I think applies to almost every worthwhile pursuit.
Tacking.
If the wind isn't in your favour, you don't abandon the destination.
You adjust the route.
You change direction temporarily.
You zig-zag.
You adapt.
The destination remains.
The journey evolves.
A few days ago, I had a very honest conversation with James Marshall, Jenny Halliday and Simon Shuker about the future of Music Kids Academy.
The vision.
The goals.
The progress.
The things that are working.
The things that are not.
And what struck me afterwards was how much my relationship with success has changed.
At 13 years old, I was obsessed with arriving.
At 47, I am much more interested in sailing.
Because success is rarely a straight line.
Careers aren't.
Businesses aren't.
Relationships aren't.
Life certainly isn't.
You rarely arrive where you expected.
And often, that's a good thing.
The funny thing is that if somebody had shown my 13-year-old self the life I have today, he probably would have been disappointed.
No Ferrari.
No California.
No blockbuster movie credits.
But he would have missed something important.
I wake up every day doing work I genuinely care about.
I have spent decades helping young people discover what they are capable of.
I have built something from nothing.
I have met extraordinary people.
I have learned constantly.
And I still look forward to what comes next.
That sounds a lot more like success than a Ferrari ever did.
So yes.
Have a destination.
Dream big.
Aim high.
But don't make the mistake I made.
Don't fall so deeply in love with the destination that you forget to enjoy the journey.
Because one day you may discover that the journey was the whole point all along.
