Leading a merry dance
You'd probably go for something like that, something which would not only make you fabulously wealthy, but also a complete babe/hunk magnet, being both creatively satisfying and adorning you with all the trappings of fame.
Sadly for you, we are not able to choose the nature of the talent we are given. Sadly for me, mine appears to be morris dancing.
I made this life-altering discovery inside the inauspicious surroundings of Kingskerswell Scout Hut on a wet and windy Thursday evening.
Despite what you might think I do not go along to these events expecting to join in, quite the opposite in fact.
But I also find it very hard to say no, and so when Roy, the foreman of the Newton Bushel morris Men, says to me: "So, you want to have a go then?" I struggle to reply in the negative.
Up until this point I had been enjoying just watching and listening to the delightful sound played by John and Sally on their melodeons, squeeze boxes in all but name, which filled the air with notes of an English summer and had me dreaming of white elephant stalls at the village fete, hog roasts at country pubs and men dancing a jig while waving hankies about.
Actually that last one was happening right in front of me. And now it was my turn.
Thankfully I was not required to wave a hankie, or 'waver' as they are correctly known, but instead got to choose a stick from James, the squire of the side and the youngest here by some margin.
So much for morris dancing being under threat from a lack of interest by the malcontented youth of today.
"We've also got one lad who is 13 or something but he can't be here tonight as he's doing his homework," says Tony, the side's bagman, rebutting the story cooked up by the national press that morris was dying a slow death.
"The media got hold of it and blew it out of all proportion. Besides, the ones who were making all the noise were the morris Ring, they don't allow women in. We're in the morris Federation, which does. It can all get a bit political you know."
If those doom merchants are anywhere near right, perhaps it is time for morris men and women to join together and hold hands in solidarity, or at least whack sticks. "When you make contact, try to push the stick upwards," offers James by way of advice, mainly for the benefit of Paul, whose stick I will be whacking. "Otherwise this could happen," he adds, showing me an assortment of scars, bruises and misshapen fingers.
Roy stands beside me as we walk through the dance I will be learning tonight, called The Beaux of London City (Adderbury version).
First we skip forwards, then backwards, then face each other for some stick whacking, before performing a half jip and full jip (remember do-si-do from country dancing?).
We then whirl round in a circle before ending up back where we started and beginning the whole thing again.
The stick-hitting part is particularly satisfying it has to be said, and some of my fellow dancers really go at it, James and Tony in particular swinging their weapons with real force.
It wouldn't require too much of a misjudgment to rearrange the shape of your hands, so I take it easy.
Having successfully added five or six steps into the dance it's time for a break, during which upcoming events will be discussed.
"Where do you live?" asks Roy, barely disguising an ulterior motive, before hitting me with it. "You're a natural at this."
I don't know what to say, so say nothing. The slightly distressing part is I think he might be right.
Following some heated discussion about which invitations to dance should be accepted, based almost entirely on the potential for a decent pint of ale in the vicinity, the regular dancers put in some more practice.
Tony, who has been suffering from the flu, takes a seat and unpacks a melodeon of his own.
"We're a bit hit by numbers tonight," he says. "We've got quite a few injuries at the moment."
At that moment Ray walks in, accompanied by Jackie, another musician.
Ray is one of the oldest members of the side but his reliance on a walking stick suggests his dancing days are over.
"This is what 30 years of morris dancing will do to your knee," says Ray, tapping his leg. "I only started doing it because I thought I was too old to play rugby.
"That was 30 years ago, I'm 65 now. They're quite similar in a way; you play hard and enjoy yourself afterwards.
"Once you get into it it's hard to stop. And you have to remember, folk dancers dance round a May pole, morris dancers dance round pubs."
Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all. But I just think that when it came to the crunch, the moment when I actually had to dance in front of the public dressed in a white tunic with bells round my ankles, my fragile sense of self-esteem would surely step in and object.
James thinks otherwise. "Once you put on that uniform you just seem to change," he says.
"It's like you have an alter ego. All of a sudden you can shout as loud as you like in the town square."
There must be a grain of truth in that, as I would not class many of these chaps as extroverts. After watching a few more dances from the safety of my chair, including a rather splendid jig by another Paul, Roy beckons me forward once again.
"Right, we're going to put it all together now," he says. "You ready?" Ready as I'll ever be.
Sal, John and Jackie strike up the tune and after being led in by Paul we are off.
I skip forward, then back, face my new partner, Nigel, whack sticks, do a half jip, whack sticks again, whirl round in a circle, come back for some more whacking, a full jip and some more skipping.
During the final jip I catch sight of a reflection of myself in the Scout hut window.
I notice I am grinning like an idiot. I recall that famous phrase about making a point of trying everything once, except incest and morris dancing, and cringe back at myself.
Perhaps that is why morris dancing is so inextricably linked to the public house and the liquid courage it provides.
Following one final dance, after which Sal also tells me she thinks I am a natural, that is precisely where we are headed.
Inside the cosy confines of the Park Inn I wonder what drove these seemingly normal men to take up morris dancing.
"I was just always fascinated by folk music," says Tony, pint of real ale in hand. "I used to watch morris sides and think to myself 'next year I'm going to do that'.
"Then I got to 40 and thought if I didn't do it then I never would. That was 18 years ago and I've never looked back."
James has a similar tale, although his interest began at a much earlier age.
"Actually I had a drink with the vicar one night and he said to me 'You like folk music don't you James?', he says.
"He then took me along to a Thursday night with these lot and that was it.
"I'm a trainee solicitor at the moment, but I'd probably be a judge now if it wasn't for morris."
John the melodeon player used to be a dancer himself, but a long lay-off during a spot of 'morris knee' saw him pick up the squeeze box.
"I had a long wait for my operation and I felt a little left out," he says. "So one Sunday I just picked up the thing and persevered with it and never went back to dancing."
There is something absolutely unmistakeably English about what the men and women of Newton Bushel morris do.
They are such a varied bunch of individuals, from all walks of life, coming together to share a common interest which is at once slightly quaint and eccentric. I can just as easily imagine them all being in a village cricket team.
"We probably would all play cricket but we're morris dancers because none of us has a competitive bone in our bodies," says James.
"That's what's great about it, no one is competing against anyone, we just have fun. Some people don't get it, and have a go at us, but that's their loss."
Well, quite. Some people just don't know how to enjoy themselves, though.
That said, as much fun as it has been tonight, I am still not sure I have skin thick enough to don the bells and shake my waver anywhere but inside a Scout hut.
If, however, morris dancing really does turn out to be the only thing I'm any good at, and at some point in the future actually does need saving from extinction, I might just have to.
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