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COLUMN<br />
East of Earwig<br />
My state of independence<br />
Being a self-employed copywriter in Ringmer is<br />
often a thankless task. This is good. In the past<br />
I’ve crafted letters from various chief executives,<br />
I’ve given voice to a cartoon mobile phone, I’ve<br />
interviewed one of the greatest racing drivers of<br />
all time and I’ve, briefly, become an expert on<br />
international rail travel. All great fun - and without<br />
any sign of Mark Bridge, whoever he is. My name<br />
rarely appears in print. As a result, no-one stops<br />
me in the street to offer their opinion. No-one<br />
photographs me when I pop to the shops wearing<br />
pyjamas and flip-flops. No-one asks me if I’m him<br />
from that thing.<br />
The freelance lifestyle is also unstable. This is also<br />
good. While some of my contemporaries get their<br />
thrills from driving fast cars, kite-surfing and wild<br />
parties, I get my adrenaline rush from wondering<br />
whether my invoices will be paid before our mortgage<br />
is due. This is much safer, with absolutely no<br />
chance of a twisted ankle.<br />
A writer in a big city may talk about working in<br />
a different coffee shop every day for a change of<br />
scenery. Here in Ringmer, fewer choices mean<br />
fewer visits. Ruling out the local pubs - which is<br />
a good idea, because I'd be inclined to stay for a<br />
bowl of chips and a pint when I'd finished my coffee<br />
- I'm left with a choice between Café Ringmer,<br />
an outside table at the bakery and the regular<br />
‘Souper Saturday’ fund-raiser at the village hall.<br />
Quite simply, living in a village saves me a fortune<br />
on my cappuccino budget.<br />
Then there’s the freedom. I don’t have any set<br />
hours to work, as long as I get the job done. I can<br />
stay up late if I want (although, to be honest, I<br />
often start dozing on the sofa before 10pm. The<br />
Newsnight theme might as well be a lullaby.) I can<br />
work at weekends, without any of the annoying paperwork<br />
associated with overtime payments. And<br />
I can even start early, just like most other people<br />
with regular jobs.<br />
Of course, there are disadvantages. By not commuting,<br />
I miss out on the camaraderie of fellow<br />
travellers as we stand nose-to-armpit on public<br />
transport, I don’t see the cheery gestures that<br />
drivers exchange at the Cuilfail roundabout and<br />
there’s no chance for me to boost my circulation as<br />
I sprint through the rain to my desk.<br />
Let’s face it, I am a man of mystery. And I’m about<br />
to become even more mysterious, because this is<br />
my last East of Earwig column. To everyone who’s<br />
enquired about the new house (still delightful), the<br />
grandson (still delightful) or the late Rupert (still<br />
in his little packet on the bedroom windowsill);<br />
thank you for joining me on my voyage of discovery<br />
through Ringmer. Meanwhile, if you’d like to<br />
know what happens next… I’m open to commissions.<br />
Mark Bridge<br />
@markbridge<br />
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