Back from my travels. What did I miss? Anything good? I’ve mostly been dancing to this amazing tune.
Normally, when I get back to London after a long trip, I feel my shoulders drop a bit. Back on autopilot for public transport, and everyone and everything moving briskly, if not efficiently. Occasionally, I’m struck by how rude everyone is until I readjust and go back to swearing under my breath every 20 paces.
But something has come unscrewed because I most definitely didn’t experience the joy of the familiar this time round. Maybe it was because it was my first trip outside the UK since the before-times; or since they made Brexit official. But mainland European cities suddenly feel like model societies and, heading home from the station, London looked filthy, broken and hostile by comparison.
European Union, you are better off without the UK - we have clearly been spoiling everything the whole time. And it’s not all bad news for the British - we can go back to appreciating the true wonder of what my mother’s generation referred to as “The Continent”. Capital T, capital C. A mysterious and enchanting world of unfathomable customs and significantly better food.
I didn’t - and still don’t - know what to do with this revelation. Luckily I haven’t got time to dwell on it because of the mountain of work that served as a welcoming party when I got back.
Taking time off work often leaves us all wondering whether it’s worth the bother. Before you check out, you have to either gently bring your various spinning plates to stillness, or wind-up the sticks with sufficient force to keep everything rotating until you return. Or worst of all, handover tediously long plate-spinning instructions and emergency protocols for smashed crockery. [This plate metaphor has gone on too long - Ed.] And then when you get back there’s a queue of people at your desk - either virtually or IRL - with more dining-ware demands than the average wedding list. [Seriously, stop it - Ed.]
Well, after a year or so of noting all the aspects of freelancing that are not much different from the 9-5 life, I’ve finally found a big difference.
Firstly, before you go away, you don’t have to hand over anything. You simply let people know (with plenty of notice) when you won’t be working for them. You are very unlikely to be the proverbial “single point of failure” so there’s nothing to handover. (OK, this may depend on your field of work - no doubt this is not the case for rocket scientists and brain surgeons … actually, can you be a freelance brain surgeon?)
In short, your employers may depend on you, but they don’t own you. Unlike full-time work, you don’t get paid leave.
OK, you don’t just down tools and go - there’s still that “get everything done before you go” aspect but since you’re contracted for certain hours or projects, this is achievable. It isn’t the same as the endless stream of work in a 9-5 job where getting “everything” done is like trying to get to the top of the Travelator in the Gladiators’ Eliminator race.
So what about the other end? What happens when you return to your desk? Well, plus ça change, as they say on The Continent. There’s still an inbox full of “when you’re back” emails to greet you - this is the world we live in. In fact, it generally seems to be exactly the same as the 9-5 life: entirely dependent on whether you set yourself up. Although I did file far too much under “deal with that when I’m back”, I was pretty careful to make sure my employers knew what my commitments were on my return. One thing that’s clear in freelance life is that your employers will not automatically defer to each other in the way various line-managers at the same company will (however grudgingly) for the greater good. Had I simply told everyone what date I’d be back, I daresay that would have been the day from hell.
Before this trip, my perception of freelance life is that you can never take a break. I feel I have adequately debunked that. In some respects, it’s easier - even if it means taking a financial hit.
And many thanks, of course …
To all my family, friends and colleagues in the Netherlands who made my trip so much fun, who put up with my terrible Dutch, and who effectively ruined London for me.
Now, seriously, who wants to see my photos?
Top row: tulips, giant clog (I wanted to get in it. I did not get in it), understated preparations for Kings Day.
2nd row: salty liquorice, Peaky Blinders-themed booze (??? no, I did not try it), over-ordering at the restaurant (standard, right?)
3rd row: the mind-melting magic of the Mesdag Panorama. Google it, thank me later.
4th row: the what and ride, I’m sorry? (never found out), ‘wacky’ marketing at the hotel that chilled me to my core, more tulips (natch)
Recommendation
Any of you who use Substack yourselves will have heard about the new recommendations tool. And those of you don’t … hey, have you heard? Substack has got a new recommendations tool! So, I’ll be giving that a whirl over the next few editions to see whether it’s all it’s cracked up to be.
First up, The Flock. I’ve mentioned this online feminist magazine before but, as it’s a subscription service, I assume relatively few of you were able to access it. However, budget constraints have seen it move to Substack this week - which is good news as you can now access some content and a regular newsletter for free.
Have a browse and if you find it as informative and entertaining as I do, I encourage you to consider foregoing a coffee and making a monthly contribution - you’ll get access to the full archive and support valuable women’s journalism to boot. I’ve put a permanent link on my Substack page so you can find it anytime (PS: I have no affiliation to The Flock, I just like it.)
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A belated Happy King’s Day to my Dutch chums.