Making Time

This weekend, I only did things that I wanted to do. I know that seems like a pretty standard thing to say, but when you work for yourself, and run your own business, it's really not. Your own time is precious. And, if you're a workaholic like me, you can kid yourself into thinking your making time for yourself.

When the work you do is fun, it doesn't feel like work. Part of my job is running about Greenwich taking photos (tomorrow I'm going to try and get to Greenwich Park and take photos of the deer and squirrels). Taking photos of squirrels doesn't feel like work! They're too cute for work! Working on my exciting new project doesn't feel like work. Blogging about fabulous designers is the most fun thing I could do with my day.

I know how lucky I am. But I also need to live my own life.

This weekend I spent the whole of Saturday writing my novel. I'm editing again, and I haven't touched it for months. It felt so good to be writing again. I don't see all writing as work. My novel is mine. It's different.

And then I went out. Which doesn't seem like an important thing, but sometimes, networking can become your social life. There are so many fun events in London, and really interesting things to do and see. Most of which, I write about. I'm there because people want me to write something. I might be having fun, I might be with friends. But I'm still working. I don't switch off. On Saturday I went out, drank too many cocktails, helped a man put a straight jacket on during an awful cabaret show, and laughed and danced about. I had the best worst hangover the next day. I didn't actually get dressed.

I could have spent the weekend catching up on blogging, taking photos, making jewellery and writing that super important document I need to do. But I didn't. I went out and had fun. And didn't give a single person my business card.

It was really really fun. Time for myself is important. I should remember that more often.

Flickr image from Matt Lancashire's photostream.