Eight days left.
I’m up to my ears in frames, mountboard, bits of painted dowel waiting to dry, the iron is on and chuffing steam everywhere. There are a couple of pieces still to be finished.
I am convinced one day I don’t have enough work, and on another that I have too much. I am besieged by thoughts that Bo’s work will look amazing (it does) and will make mine look stupid. He will sell all of his and mine will be left to pack back into the car at the end of the week.
I have written a price list three or four times, on confident days upping the prices… (“I am amazing! People will flock through the doors to buy all of these, they will fight over them!”) on doubtful days pulling them down again… (“For goodness sake who on earth is going to want scrappy old bits of fabric on their walls?”)
Pathetic. Get a grip woman!
