18th of January 2017
A bumpy start to the year.
2017 began with me running around the Kentish countryside in the middle of the night, dropping off bundles of newspapers to newsagents and petrol stations. Seven days a week. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
It wasn’t.
Sleeping all day just to function at 2am had a brutal impact on my life. As I was getting home, Rhona was heading out to work. We managed a couple of stolen hours together as a family in the evening before I had to be in bed by 8pm to top up on sleep.
I became grumpy and irritable, unable to shake the constant tiredness. On paper, it looked workable. The money was OK. The hours seemed manageable. In reality, everything else began to suffer. Getting Karta to school. Running errands. Housework. Freelance work. Cooking. All of it slipped.
Opportunities were still coming my way, and I had to make a decision. Do I carry on for the sake of regular income and have no life, or do I stop and look for something better?
That pause mattered.
My thoughts drifted back to the plans I’d made for the year before I found myself skidding along frozen lanes east of Canterbury. Developing my web and graphic design skills. Improving my photography. Being fully present as a stay-at-home parent. Work that fulfils me makes me calmer, more centred, and ultimately a better husband and father.
Once I’d decided to move on from the night job, things became awkward. Despite nothing being signed and the work being self-employed, I was told I needed to give a month’s notice. Verbal agreements aren’t worth the paper they’re written on, as the saying goes. That’s only half true. It took some wriggling, but it now looks like I’m out.
Lesson learned. No more vague arrangements. Everything written. Everything signed.
So, onwards.
Once I’m completely clear of the night work, my energy will go back into Full Gas Foto and Secret Agent Projects. I don’t expect to make millions doing what I do. But if I can earn a fair fee and take satisfaction in the work, that will be enough.
Until next time,
adieu.