If you want to make God laugh, they say, tell Him your plans. This week, God clearly had taken advantage of His omnipresence to sneak a peek into my diary and work some mischief.
I had earmarked this Wednesday as a Day of Bliss. Too often as freelancers, we work every hour we can, feel guilty about time taken off, the weight of the pending tray in the corner of our minds. It’s important to have conscious time off, and I had Wednesday in my sights. Nothing would intrude on a day of a lazy swim, maybe a movie after lunch and perhaps a pint of beer as I watched the rush hour sweep by. But nothing set in stone.
The first intrusion was entirely welcome: would I come to the Lansdowne Club at 7.30am to talk about my work at a networking breakfast? Of course. Perfect. My D of B would kick off with something useful. Something to get me up and out, I could have a sense of achievement, even as I unwound in the steam room and fondled moonbeams.
Intrusion two was equally well-timed; the Radio Four show I’ve been working on recorded the last of the series. Drinks after? Yes, of course, what lovelier way to round off the day? I could still fit in a movie into my Day – or Few Hours – of Bliss.
Then, producer Ollie called: could we bump Tuesday’s recording session for Zone One into Wednesday? I was going to demure when I opened my email and found that a client was having to cancel his Friday coaching session… Could we make it, say, Wednesday 1pm on the phone instead?
I said yes to both. And then realised that I had some invoices to send and a blog to write for PS Programmes, which filled between the engagements like plaster in a crack.
‘Work,’ said Noel Coward, ‘is more fun than fun.’ I have to say that if God’s idea of punishing this sin-loving atheist is to act as a celestial PA and fill my day with charmingly varied and elegantly dovetailing projects some of which paid extremely well, then, hey, I’m ready for another smiting any time.
I’ve already got 2013 down as a Year of Loafing.