At 39, I'm at a crossroads in my life. Again, I hear you ask? Well, yes. 11 years striving to be "something in the city" à la LA Law have taught me that life is not best spent in an office. At least not mine. Not this year, anyway. Especially when my mind is elsewhere, calling me from afar. Breathless business trips only reinforce my conviction that I should be spending more than four hours in, say, Singapore before turning round and heading home.

So I have a decision to make. Do I break into my forties sharing yet more cold pizza at 3am with a team of power hungry 20-somethings, waiting for that 98-page fax to come in from New York ? At least I would be assured of a b&b Italia sofa from SCP and five pairs of Manolo Blahniks (none of which I would be home long enough to enjoy). Or do I complete my last timesheet of this decade (Sunday: 9.5 hours: drafting loan agreement) and return to the wilds of Canada to look for the best spot to pitch my tent? It's an easy choice to make.

So why me? First, there's my character. Naturally gregarious and, to be frank, obsessively curious, I travel so as to immerse myself in the culture and language of others. And I can truthfully say that I find nothing so compelling as communicating with others. Except perhaps scaling an impossibly high peak or two. So I'm sure I'd have more than a few interesting tales to tell on a daily, never mind a weekly, basis.

Then there's my age. Thirty-nine is generally considered a lamentable age, at least by 99% of my (younger) friends, particularly the women (all broody on my behalf). And yet, with a good few years as an adult "in the bag", I feel a confidence that was lacking in my 20s. While handy for rebuffing the unwanted attentions of over-amorous admirers (and useful for ensuring that any wanted attentions don't go to waste), this means that I am unfazed by the challenges of travel which once kept me from venturing too far from my door.

Next, there's my travelling experience. I've had a taste of the world from both the first class lounge and the back of a truck and relish both. I've backpacked in south America (with just a boyfriend for company) and climbed mountains in Spain (the boyfriend having gone). I've encountered bears in the Rockies and iguanas in Guatemala. And yet I thirst for more. I've never seen an aardvark and won't rest until I do.

So why Netjetting and not just an overdraft, to be paid off in cold pizza moments when I'm 43? Because if I Netjet, there may be no more cold pizza moments. Just memories of the aardvark and an Argos sofa instead.