The Night Laundry

It’s that time of year when it’s hard to keep it all together. Whoever decided the first few months of the financial new year should coincide with the last few months of the academic year should be shot.

Many partner organisations I’m involved with have just had their budgets released which means, after months of delay, I’m finally able to meet up and get some photography workshops in place for the summer and autumn months. I’d be a fool not to have these meetings now. Any delay means I’m likely to miss out on my slice of the financial pie.

Meanwhile, the end of the academic year brings with it a flurry of activity on the arts scene. Many festivals and exhibitions tend to take into account the need to involve academic institutions before their summer break. If I turn down any of these the opportunity might not come around again until next year. Other things won’t come around at all. Tomorrow I’m guest artist for Fifteen Hundred lives at the Creative Bubble in Swansea. This is their last monthly event at the Bubble, the end of an era, and I’d be a fool not to be a part of it.

And finally, my bread and butter money, my livelihood, my way to pay my way when all these other things dry up, is going supernova this month. I tutor maths, physics, chemistry, and some English to high school students. I can’t turn this down because it keeps me afloat all year round. I can’t suddenly drop my clients because I’m a little busy elsewhere. Not only would it be unprofessional, it would be terrible to drop people just days before they sit their final exams. It would ruin any chance of repeat business, and ruin the personal confidence which my clients have worked so hard at throughout the year. I have to step up and give my clients my best.

All this means I don’t have time to relax until the end of June. I just have to dig in and take it a day at a time. The furthest I can manage to stretch myself physically on a Friday night is to the laundry room and back again. It’s quiet and warm and soothing in here. Everything smells gentle and calm. It’s the perfect Friday night out when the whole world wants a piece of me.

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