Freelancing

(A loving re-hash of an old favourite – Warning by Jenny Joseph. I hope she won’t mind.)

Now I am a freelancer, I shall wear pyjamas
With biscuit crumbs all scattered down my front.
And I shall spend my earnings on hand-stitched notebooks
And lovely pens, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit in cafés and slurp creamy hot chocolate
And bake fancy cakes and eat gallons of icing
And stroll by the river on sunny Mondays
And make up for all those hours of meetings.
I shall go out in gym clothes but just to the shops
And take calls in the park but pretend I’m at home
And learn to draw.

I can watch daytime TV and take afternoon naps
And eat three bowls of Coco Pops at a go
Or only peanut butter for a week
And hoard copies of press ads and leaflets and things in boxes.

But I must also take briefs that keep me in work
And untangle feedback and explain my amends
And speak to recruiters and update my blog.
I must network and mingle, tweet wry little snippets.

So why do I choose to admit all this now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When they arrive, unexpected, and I’m still in pyjamas.

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