As I’ve hinted in my last couple of emails, I’ve been up in London a lot recently. A close family member had surgery planned, so I was splitting time between work and hospital visits. They’re home now and recovering well. Praise, thanks and love to the NHS. It's still the best thing we’ve ever come up with.

I've been living in a budget hotel near Euston the whole time, sharing a twin room with my dad (a bonding experience neither of us asked for). The hotel café turned out to be one of those rare London secrets: super quiet, never busy, no one hurrying you along, incredible Wi-Fi, and coffee so good the staff eventually suggested I ease off it.

By the end they were genuinely chatty, seemed happy to see me each morning, and I felt like a regular. It's a real secret gem I’ll be keeping under my hat for future trips, but reply if you really want the details.

Back in my perm days, a fortnight like this would have been a nightmare. I’d be sat across from my manager, nervously asking for time off, rehearsing promises to “make it up in the evenings,” while they gave that half-suspicious look. "Hope everything’s okay… but keep your phone on, won’t you?". Then you’d spend the week half-checking in just to prove you were still around. 

Exhausting.

Freelancing flips that. You’re not an employee. You’re the business. You’re the boss. And being the boss means you set the boundaries. I told my client: I won’t be checking Slack during visiting hours, but I’ll get the work done.

And I did. Sometimes that meant getting up a bit earlier, locking into focus mode, or stretching the working day. It wouldn’t have been sustainable for months on end, but for a couple of weeks — knowing there was an end point — it worked.

My client was incredibly supportive, and it's one of the many reasons I’m enjoying that gig so much. I think people actually root for you when you’re honest. This isn’t about sharing every detail of your private life. Clients and colleagues aren’t your family (more on that another time), but a bit of honesty and vulnerability goes a long way.

I even ran a live webinar from the hotel twin room. Housekeeping wheeled the hoover out about five minutes before I started. Old me would have been mortified. This time, I leaned into it. I told the group: hopefully the hotel Wi-Fi will hold... it’s been solid so far, but bear with me if it wobbles. And they did. People usually do, when you’re honest.

That’s the bit that takes reps. The right clients. And the confidence to see yourself as a business, not an employee. Once you start cutting that old cord back to perm life, it gets easier.

It’s calmer. More balanced. And you end up with trust on both sides. For me, the shift has looked like this:

From nervously asking for time off project → to calmly stating when I’ll be offline, and when I’ll deliver.

From apologising for every missed ping → to setting clear expectations on when I’ll respond.

From worrying about looking “presentable” → to focusing on doing good work, wherever it happens.

From trying to prove I’m always “around” → to building trust by delivering results, not by hovering.

None of that is arrogance. It’s the opposite, really. It’s professional honesty. It’s saying: here’s how I’ll make this work, here’s what you can expect from me. And in my experience, clients don’t just accept that, they respect it.

Now I’m back in Brighton, adjusting from buffet breakfasts and bottomless coffee to my own slightly dented cereal bowls. The dog immediately reclaimed his spot on the bed, the desk chair, and every surface I might want to use.

When I told him about the hotel setup, he gave me his usual withering look before adding:

“Housekeeping hoovers? Should’ve got me on expenses. I’d have barked them out in seconds.”

And sometimes this job just happens to involve emailing from a twin room, with your dad as unpaid HR, while the café downstairs quietly promotes you to “local oddball in residence.”

You learn to treat a decorative bedside lamp as part of your professional backdrop. You discover that housekeeping will always pick their moment to roll out the hoover. And you realise that good work still gets done, even when the setting looks nothing like an office.

Which is maybe the point. Freelancing isn’t about creating the illusion of corporate perfection. It’s about finding ways to deliver the work, honestly, on your terms, in whatever odd circumstances life throws at you.