It wasn’t so long ago
(five months to be exact) when I was living a comfortable life with a
comfortable salary. My income was such that I didn’t have to think twice about
buying things like food and electricity. Most people would call these the good
old days. I, on the other hand, am quite happy to see these days in my
rear-view mirror. Gone is the complacency that comes with stability! I for one
love the thrill of walking into Tesco so I can play the ‘what can I buy for
dinner with the last two pounds in my bank account’ game.
Now, don’t get me
wrong, there are days when I do remember my full-time remuneration with a sense
of acute longing because I do live in London. There is a LOT of stuff to
do/see/buy here. There is a lot of EXPENSIVE stuff to do/see/buy here. But when
you stop buying stuff because you have to, you do realise just how much you
don’t really need. Sure, I still walk down Oxford Street and wish I could buy
an item of clothing from somewhere other than Primark or H&M, but on the
whole, I’m happily surprised by how little I long for stuff.
Food, again, I can cut
down on with ease. When you can buy ready-made meals for little over three
pounds, you begin to wonder why anyone ever cooks.
Travel has probably
been my biggest financial sacrifice since becoming an unemployed, broke writer.
Before I moved to London, I travelled quite frequently and with an eagerness
that obviously hasn’t dissipated since I arrived in the city that has Europe on
its doorstep. But Europe isn’t going anywhere and I know it will be waiting for
me when my first published book is a bestseller and I’m able to travel first
class as the universe intended.
Let’s skip over the
amount of money I spend on drinking in London. Ahem.
I use libraries as my
location of choice for my writing and, thankfully, you can spend hours in them
without spending a single penny. But as a person who spends their days trying
to be creative, inspiration is just as important to my everyday as is lunch and
dinner. Writing can be isolating and quiet and if you’re not careful, you can
tumble down a dark vortex of misery if you don’t stick your head out of the
library every once and awhile to remind yourself of the world outside.
And this is where, for
those who are skint like me, London is so very rewarding. Free.Art.
Once I’m done writing
for the day, whether that’s after 1000 words or five words, I’ll pick an art
gallery or museum and head off for a few hours of free inspiration. One such
afternoon I found myself spending time with various British dignitaries, and the Tudors in the National Portrait
Gallery, reading about Henry’s wives and children and those whom he favoured
and those whom he did not (mind yer head!).
YOU get a portrait, and YOU get a portrait! |
Another afternoon was
spent amongst the latest bewildering collection at the Saatchi Gallery, where I
left deciding that I really hadn’t liked any of the pieces but was nevertheless
glad that I had been exposed to them.
Always challenging, always worth a visit |
And of course there’s
the V&A. One of my favourite places in London. A place where you can get
utterly transported studying a giant piece of tapestry or inspired by
overhearing a young boy asking his teacher if he, too, could ask his parents
for a purple sequin dress after visiting the V&A’s theatre costume
collection.
Don't tell the others, but you're my favourite... |
London may have asked
me to sacrifice a lot from my previous, comfortable life, but what it has given
me in return is inspiration on every corner. Free inspiration to help me become
the most creative, the most inspired writer I can be.
I just have to not
exit through the gift shop.
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