If Jeremy Clarkson can go from petrolhead to Cotswolds farmer – anyone can reinvent themselves in midlife

Just a few months ago, more veteran politicians than ever found themselves out of a job. In July, 175 incumbent Conservative MPs were shown the exit door by their constituents. And I feel sorry for them. Really. It’s tough to start again.

Ten years ago, my annual salary was £8,000, less than my teenage daughter brought in from her nannying job. It was barely enough to pay the bills – and with a sizable mortgage, two cars, school fees and all the luxuries of a comfortable middle-class lifestyle, there were a lot of outgoings.

Blame it on my midlife crisis – in retrospect the best thing that ever happened to me. Because instead of doing all the stupid hedonistic things middle-aged men do as they try to reinvent themselves, I did something equally stupid. I decided to reinvent my career from a standing start, abandoning an office job in journalism to see what else there was out there. If Arnold Schwarzenegger could make a dramatic career change at 56, why couldn’t I? And if Jeremy Clarkson can go from petrolhead to Cotswolds farmer, anything is possible, surely?

Today, with a business bringing in close to £300,000 a year, I look back on that relatively tiny sum with immense pride. I own a global training company that provides businesses with strategies that enable data-obsessed teams to “translate” complex material into simple stories that not even ChatGPT can match. Yet.

Back then, I had nothing. No clients, no income, no real clue what I was going to do, where I was headed or how I’d get there. Just a mad idea that there was something else. 

Only now do I realise that middle age is the most perfect time to reinvent yourself. It’s daunting and scary but you have the skills and emotional intelligence and, with work perpetually disrupted by technology, it’s increasingly necessary. Age, we’re told is a barrier to success. Believe me, at 56, I can see that it’s the opposite. That I succeeded is down to one person. My wife, whose two greatest assets in 2014 (she has many others) were an unwavering confidence in me and a salaried job that enabled my indulgent pursuit.

Anyway, since that dark time, I’ve been asked many times how I did it and have forced myself to look backwards instead of forwards, outlining “rules” that you won’t find in any of those How to guides lining the self-help shelves. So, the first thing to remember is:

 As well as the colleague who, as they did when I told them I was going to try and reinvent myself, replied: “Aren’t you a bit old for that?” Past 40, with greying hair, he feared I’d be the old man playing catch-up in a room full of people half my age. That fear was not for me, it was for him.

The fear that he couldn’t do it, so how on earth could I? Yet playing catch-up is the energy boost you need when things start flagging. And they will always flag. That’s the bit about age that matters.

The older we get, the more we seek comfortable safety, easing off the accelerator. You may not think you have the energy for middle-aged reinvention but, believe me, others will provide it.

One in five Gen Z workers reported that they haven’t had a single direct conversation with someone over 50 in their workplace in the last year. But both sides benefit from these interactions – we can pass down skills and acknowledge young people know things we don’t. Reverse mentoring helps to adopt their bring-it-on mindset for yourself.

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Use experience and longevity to your advantage by saying things that no one else in the room dares express. You’ve earned the right because of those workplace scars. When you hit midlife, never think your age is an impediment. Most of those in the room will probably consider it your greatest asset. So should you.

When you make connections, send emails, CVs, ideas etc, you will be under the misapprehension – because of your seniority – that your communication is as important to the sender as it is to you.

It isn’t because – brace yourself – you aren’t important anymore. It and you may barely appear on their horizon until weeks later. Do not sit, as I used to, constantly checking your inbox for that life-changing ping.

Your stellar résumé is not the sales tool you think it is. No one reads them. Instead, finish this sentence: “You need me because…” You have about 10 seconds to make that first meeting fly, and the story of who you are and what you’ve achieved is far less interesting than the story of why you matter. To them.

Or look at the full 850-word master narrative, cut down to three paragraphs, then three sentences, and finally a single 280-character tweet. You need one. Gradually make your story as concise as possible, so that you can tell it in a single breath. It takes a while to get this right.

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They will shower you with praise, be unfailingly upbeat about your potential and immediately know people who it would be great for you to meet. And then you will never hear from them again. Because you are the worst candidate of all – a rule-breaking maverick who wants to rewrite their story.

You will screw up, no matter how perfect your approach. Good. It makes you better. Why on earth did I think I’d be good at helping polish Michelle Mone’s profile? (Yes I thought it, no I didn’t attempt it.)

In middle age, you’re mature enough to have the courage to admit you’ve made a mistake, react positively and go again. All at speed. Sometimes we become so institutionalised at work that we don’t realise we’re making mistakes, or don’t care enough to change. Mistakes are good because it means you’re learning. Which is also why you need to…

At the start of my reinvention, I arranged a meeting at least twice a week. And yet, looking in the mirror as I shaved and got ready, I knew it would be a waste of time and that I’d probably get 10 minutes at most with someone who didn’t really give a damn about me.

But I was curious about what the frog might tell me, that they might know someone who would know someone else who would…well eventually I’d get a gig. And I did.

Frog-kissing is miserable. You’ll get down, you’ll worry that reinvention is out of reach and you won’t rest. By setting my alarm for 5am, I made myself so exhausted that I never lay awake at night. Plus, looking for leads is easier at dawn than dusk.

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There came a point when I felt I had no one I could confide in. Endless weeks of my diary were blank and yet I had to force myself to carry an air of confidence, especially at home. Sharing these feelings would, I concluded, make me look weak as if this grand adventure was a foolhardy idea.

I’d like to tell you there is an easy cure but there isn’t. You will get lonely, be plagued by doubt and angst. But you can’t enjoy the peaks without experiencing the troughs. Have faith in yourself.

In those first few weeks, I made a list of 100 people in media and business that I wanted to meet. People out of my orbit – CEOs, billionaires, celebrity business people. And in every message (guessing personal emails is fiendishly difficult and exhausting but not impossible) I asked “for your advice”.

It’s an ego thing. The more successful someone is, the more advice they like to give. A third of that first 100 responded, a quarter met me, four gave me work, two are still clients, one now freelances for me. When you’re at zero, hitting the bullseye every 25 shots is good going.

Unless you thicken your skin quickly, you’re going to find reinvention tough. Get back up and dust yourself down. Many, many times.

It might be, but midlife reinvention requires humility. You need to say yes and not worry that you’re being paid less money than your teenage daughter. When you are reinventing yourself, no one actually knows whether you’re any good at this “thing” you say you can do.

Watch the room, look for gaps and judge where you might be able to create value by filling an empty space. And the smaller the space, the better, because you’ll be able to own it. For me, that’s been journalistic storytelling training.

Helping insight teams across the world translate data into stories, providing them with newsroom skills so that they can become more influential. Journalists look at me quizzically, asking: “Is that a job?” I didn’t know it was until I realised no one else was doing it.

Whatever path you think you’re on, be ready to take another. Instantly. You need to be able to act fast as and when things change. Having a rigid plan makes reinvention that much harder.

The best place to be is on the edge, walking into a room with an inner strength built from decades of knowing that you are good at what you do, and that somewhere you have the tools to accomplish this new thing. Making it up as you go along is good.