Don’t Tell Me I Can’t… …become a fire fighter
Cath Homan quite literally left the frying pan for the fire
As a call comes in and the alarm bells begin to ring through the fire station, I grab my helmet and run towards the fire truck that is ready to leave. As my colleagues and I bundle in, I feel the familiar rush of adrenaline – and pride. At 53, I’m finally doing a job I love that’s making a difference to people’s lives.
I started working for Battersea Fire Station in 1997, but not as a firefighter – I was working as a cook to the crew. A new mother to my daughter Matilda, then 18 months, the part-time job fitted perfectly around childcare and while my mum, Josie, looked after Matlida at the weekends, I would work in the fire station kitchen.
I’d worked in catering since leaving school, and though I enjoyed my work it wasn’t completely fulfilling. Still, I got along well with the staff and firefighters and, as the years passed, I even met a few female firefighters. It might sound naive, but I’d never heard of women being firefighters before, and was so impressed.
I wished I could do something so brave, but, back then, there was an upper age limit of 30 for becoming a firefighter. Already in my mid-30s, I’d missed my chance.
But then,in April 2000, I was working a Saturday shift and was joking with a few members of the fire crew. ‘I could do your job,’ I teased. I was just being silly, but the station manager overheard and teased me back. ‘You really think so?’ he laughed.
I replied that had the upper age restrictions been lower, I would have applied a long time ago. ‘You’re in luck,’ he said, explaining that the limit had been lifted.
I’d had no idea that the rules had changed but while I was delighted, I was also sceptical. By now I was nearing 40 and I wasn’t sure I had what it took. I knew it would involve hard work and determination. But I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t at least try.
With the station manager’s help, I began my application to the London Fire Service, and, in October 2001, I started my training.
The selection process was rigorous, and each test had to be passed before I could go on to the next. There were physical exams, including climbing ladders and carrying heavy weights, plus modules on safety and the scientific elements of firefighting. I never realised how much there would be to learn.
It was gruelling and tiring, and there were nights that I questioned whether I was too old to be taking on such a challenge. It was 16 weeks of juggling childcare and getting to training – thankfully I had the help from my ex and my mum. But with each module I passed, I was encouraged to keep going.
In February 2002, I finally passed my training and was assigned to Clapham Fire Station to begin my new career.
My first few shifts were tough and when I went out to fight my first fire, I was brimming with nerves, but I drew on my training and suppressed any fears I had, focusing on the job in hand.
I didn’t just put out fires, though. I also dealt with traffic accidents, animal rescue, community safety work and educational talks. I loved it.
In 2005, I became qualified to drive a fire engine, and five years later I became manager of my own watch at Wimbledon Fire Station. Beginning a career in the fire service in my 40s was the best thing I ever did and even now, at 53, I’m enjoying every single second of it.
‘i’m finally doing A job i love’