Excuses, Excuses.
It’s very hard to
rehearse a stand-up show with Bryan Adams’ '(Everything I Do) I Do it For You'
blaring from the doorway of the upholsterers’ workshop opposite.
I know that's a specialist excuse. It also isn’t valid. The six-minute-and-thirty-three-second running time of Adams’ signature hit takes up a tiny fraction of a typical working day. It’s the only song the upholsterers have played since I’ve been in the office and they've only played it once. I’m just looking for a way out.
The hardest part to being self-employed is getting motivated. This is particularly the case when the lion’s share of the work is done. The show is written and has already been performed in front of an audience; I just need to tweak it. But how can I do this, when both the kettle and the biscuit barrel are within arm’s reach?
There’s a shade of Parkinson’s Law to my situation: "work expands to fill the time available". It’s like completing GSCE coursework: however long you've been given, you still do most of the work the night before the deadline. Or is that just me? Whatever the logic, the less Canadian soft-rock I’m subjected to before my next gig, the better.
I know that's a specialist excuse. It also isn’t valid. The six-minute-and-thirty-three-second running time of Adams’ signature hit takes up a tiny fraction of a typical working day. It’s the only song the upholsterers have played since I’ve been in the office and they've only played it once. I’m just looking for a way out.
The hardest part to being self-employed is getting motivated. This is particularly the case when the lion’s share of the work is done. The show is written and has already been performed in front of an audience; I just need to tweak it. But how can I do this, when both the kettle and the biscuit barrel are within arm’s reach?
There’s a shade of Parkinson’s Law to my situation: "work expands to fill the time available". It’s like completing GSCE coursework: however long you've been given, you still do most of the work the night before the deadline. Or is that just me? Whatever the logic, the less Canadian soft-rock I’m subjected to before my next gig, the better.
