Un-busy

I had a middle of the night WTF?! moment.

Will I ever work again?

Well, yes, I will, I’ve got one contract, for a couple of days a week, for a bit.

….And the new studio works well, that is, I can work well within it. I’ve tested most activities that could need to be undertaken and they all get a tick.

Alongside the extremely tenuous work forecast, I’m also experiencing a bit of an attitude problem. To illustrate this I confess that these are the three things I say most often at the moment, not always aloud.

1. Can I be arsed? Well can I? Possibly, if it’s interesting.

2. He/she/they/it can fuck the fuck off! This applies to; persons asking cheeky questions, those offering reduced rates of pay, those with inflated prices (an effing COVID surcharge wtf?!) those expecting sweetness and light, our mice visitors and the weather. Of course what people might hear is, let me get back to you on that.

3. Soz. Mostly used after the above, if the recipient of my disinterest seems; disappointed, dissatisfied, dismayed or any other dis…

Essentially I’m lazy. People don’t necessarily believe me because I rarely turn work down, I will, and do work extra and long hours to get a job done properly. If something needs doing and no one else is going to do it, I will. I don’t do this to favour anyone else, I like things how I like them… and when I want them.

This makes me seem like a whirling dervish, workaholic at times.

I should have been working all summer and still now, but I haven’t been and I’m not.

What I’m doing instead, is getting used to not working six day weeks and developing new routines, getting to the studio around 10ish, leaving 4-5.30 ish. Having Friday afternoon studio drinks.

I found an increased appreciation for this new un-busy state of affairs earlier this week. A last minute holiday. Cornflake had work to do in in my home town. This meant that the new, or should I say, the authentic me, could go with him, stay in a nice hotel, drink Champagne cocktails and eat out with my best boy.

Visits ‘home’ are sadly tinged with regret as I’m an orphan with no base, however, I find that this sadness is lessened by treats and trips down memory lane.

This trip I rediscovered a place I may not have visited since I saw the Queen there during her silver jubilee.

While Cornflake was working I went to a second hand book stall in the market and bought ‘Frenchman’s Creek’. I sat on a bench in a public garden not really reading it, I sat in the cafe not really reading it too. A book gives a person an air of purpose. It shouldn’t be underestimated as a companion when hanging out in parks alone, even when it’s not being used for its intended purpose.

I rediscovered a pet cemetery that had fascinated me when I was small, Gentle, loving, little Bijou 1895, Dear little Fritz 1906. There’s the sweetest statue of a young Mozart wearing a frock coat with his hair in a ponytail.

My all time favourite angel still watches over the garden’s entrance.

Is this my new normal?

Cash poor, time rich.

Ok.