Let this be a lesson to you – don’t throw anything away!
My plans to get rich and to retire young are not going well. The nearest I’m getting to running away somewhere hot and exotic is hiding in the oven with a boil in the bag chicken korma.
I am probably the world’s worst businessman. My standard quote for any piece of work is a fiver and a pint. From building a 1 to 1 scale model of the Titanic from assorted pasta shapes, to unblocking a sink, it’s my standard quote. We may haggle, the pint may turn in to a bottle of wine, but that’s as far as I’m willing to push it.
My modest income from covering Roller Derby over the past few years has amounted to £235 and a fine range of wine and beer. If I were to factor in equipment costs, travel and time I’d be down by a good £15k at a conservative estimate. But I don’t do it for the money. Obviously.
Having been to Art College I believed at one point that I could make a living from art. Sad and misguided as I was. I’ve sold a few pieces over the years but not enough to keep the wolf from the door. Well, actually it would, as I couldn’t afford the door. So when I checked a rarely used and semi-defunct email account the other day, I was surprised to find an email from an art dealer saying that they had a client in Chicago interested in one of my pieces.
Whoo hoo. It made my day. The only problem is, I don’t know where it is. I don’t know if it still exists. It could be under the bed, it could be in the cupboard or I could have binned it. With 600 or so drawings rolled up and stuffed all over the house I can’t be sure. Is it worth going through them all? It’s a couple of days work and sods law, it’ll be the last one I come to. Plus I’d have to dismantle half the house to get to most of them and it may actually no longer exist.
So I guess I’m back to squeezing in to the oven with my chicken korma. I only wish I’d cleaned it more often. It’s bloody filthy in here.
I am probably the world’s worst businessman. My standard quote for any piece of work is a fiver and a pint. From building a 1 to 1 scale model of the Titanic from assorted pasta shapes, to unblocking a sink, it’s my standard quote. We may haggle, the pint may turn in to a bottle of wine, but that’s as far as I’m willing to push it.
My modest income from covering Roller Derby over the past few years has amounted to £235 and a fine range of wine and beer. If I were to factor in equipment costs, travel and time I’d be down by a good £15k at a conservative estimate. But I don’t do it for the money. Obviously.
Having been to Art College I believed at one point that I could make a living from art. Sad and misguided as I was. I’ve sold a few pieces over the years but not enough to keep the wolf from the door. Well, actually it would, as I couldn’t afford the door. So when I checked a rarely used and semi-defunct email account the other day, I was surprised to find an email from an art dealer saying that they had a client in Chicago interested in one of my pieces.
Whoo hoo. It made my day. The only problem is, I don’t know where it is. I don’t know if it still exists. It could be under the bed, it could be in the cupboard or I could have binned it. With 600 or so drawings rolled up and stuffed all over the house I can’t be sure. Is it worth going through them all? It’s a couple of days work and sods law, it’ll be the last one I come to. Plus I’d have to dismantle half the house to get to most of them and it may actually no longer exist.
So I guess I’m back to squeezing in to the oven with my chicken korma. I only wish I’d cleaned it more often. It’s bloody filthy in here.
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