Fireworks, going freelance, and a lot of cake

It was a big week for me this week, for cake and career

This week has involved a lot of cake. I don’t want to say too much cake, but running was hard today.

Last Monday lunchtime, I went to Sorrel’s in Crookes (if you know, you know) and told the girl at the counter, as I paid for my brownie, that I’d just handed in my notice. From her response, it felt like I was telling a friend, not a staff member in my nearest bakery, and the gooey sweetness helped me through one of my many ‘to-dos’ of the day back at my desk. Tuesday evening involved Bake Off (that was a lot of trembling jelly), and some late-night baking teamwork with friends.

As the week went on, there were various birthday cakes, a tiramisu shared around the dinner table, churros chomped under the shelter of a food stand at a rainy fireworks display, and a loaf of banana bread I made for my dad’s birthday, which we ate together on the sofa watching Chandler stuck in an ATM vestibule with Jill Goodacre, both quietly glad to be able to spend time together on his actual birthday for the first time in years.

I said to my friends that handing in my notice felt 85% like taking off a tight bra and 15% like a cold shower. As I shared the news about leaving my job – my cousin said he was really proud of me, my brother said I need to make sure I know how much tax I’m going to pay – it started to feel a little bit more like a real life change as opposed to this idea running through my head like the rolling orange text of a train station platform sign.

January will be the start of my freelance life as an interiors writer, and I’m hoping it will mean I can work on my interior design course, which I’ve not made progress on for months. At this point, I’m even wondering if my login still works or if I’ve been locked out forever, it’s been so long since I started the assignment for Module 4 on spatial planning and layouts. Not beating myself up, I’ve been busy.

It will also mean more variety and flexibility. I’m saying this, but I don’t know how it’s going to turn out, but even that’s exciting. This year I’ve spent some time trying to work out what I want – always quite the riddle – and shake things up to make my life feel more ‘me’ and this feels like a bold move in that direction. I don’t really get excited about anything, usually, but I really like the idea that I don’t know how life will look by next bonfire night.

While this year’s was memorable because of the weather, I’ve always loved bonfire night and treated it as my own little private anniversary or moment to be grateful for what’s going on right now. Bonfire night 2007, wellies on the muddy grass bank separating the car park and the play park, 11-year-old me watched the reds, blues and greens light up the sky while fretting about the fact I’d lost my chemistry workbook, which I needed at school the next day. I’m pretty sure I went home and found it, but the lost chemistry book mushroomed into a big worry and I always remember it. Another bonfire night I spent stressing about an essay on Phèdre. Wish I could go back and tell myself to chill out, first year at uni doesn’t even count.

These concerns can feel overwhelming at the time, taking over your thoughts and bleeding into every waking moment, but they all pass. Maybe I’ll be back working full time again by next bonfire night. Maybe I’ll be having scary periods with no money coming in, but I feel like I can weather it.