Last night, as Toddler Grundy snoozed in her crib and the vines swayed gently in the evening sun, Lauren and I settled onto Chateau Grundy's sofa to watch the first episode of Season 3 of the Game of Thrones spin-off, House of the Dragon.

After two seasons of this tripe already, I can safely say that House of the Dragon is not my cup of tea.

It wasn't long before I started daydreaming. And as the medieval waffle dragged on, I slipped deeper & deeper into my reverie. 

All of a sudden I found myself perched on a throne, clasping a sword and keeping a beady eye on my loyal subjects. I had become The Buddha of Banking, First of His Name, King of the Daily Email, Sultan of Subscribers, His Fully Coach-Mad Excellency.

A warrior approached.

She knelt before me and spoketh thus:

Hark Your Royal Buddhaness. I come before you seeking guidance. 

I replied:  

What troubleth you, young swordswoman?

Then she confessed:

One day, many moons from now, I would like to rule over the Land of the Busy Bees whilst casting many spells, dwelling in a magnificent castle, joy-riding my dragon and chomping on extravagant feasts. 

Yet I do worry. My heart is burdened with doubts and uncertainties.

I fear my path may be filled with treacherous obstacles, cunning adversaries, back-stabbing and castle politics.

I wonder if it's worth sacrificing the simpler joys of life for status and grandeur. And doubts doth linger that true fulfilment lies beyond the realm of power and prestige.

Enlighten me, Buddha of Banking. Am I sipping from a poisoned goblet? I doth humbly seek your counsel.

I paused, breathed deeply and began my reply:

Kneel no more, young warrior. You have come to the right place. I can tell the burdens of sovereignty weigh heavy on…

Before I could finish my sentence, I awoke from my daydream with a jolt. 

An ad break had started. 

I glanced up at the TV and Bella Hadid glanced back at me, twirling Charlotte Tilbury's Airbrush Flawless Lip Blur enticingly around her cheeks.

The spell was broken. My daydream was over.

But still…

I wonder what advice I would’ve given that plucky young warrior if Bella Hadid hadn’t so rudely interrupted me.

I think I would've said: 

Young warrior. The poisoned goblet isn't the throne, the back-stabbing or the castle politics. It's believing you need to decide today whether tomorrow will make you happy. You'll never know that. But you can know whether your heart wants the throne today.

And who knows?

Maybe the young swordswoman would ascend the throne, gouging out my eyes and chopping off my head in the process (that would be just my luck).

Or maybe she would've flown home to her family castle to live a life of quiet solitude and reflection.

But whichever path she chose it would matter not a jot.  

For in either kingdom, she'd be where her heart rightfully belonged.  

To fulfilment,

Tom

p.s. if you'd like a travelling companion for your own quest, hearken thus with haste:

https://waitinglist.followingfulfilment.com