Work independently, together.

I went to my work club.

I’d booked a day pass the night before. No contract, no catch. 

I was greeted at 8:30, bike by the door, oat flat white coffee on before the rush.

No badge, no boardroom, no one in a suit. Just the father-daughter electrical team, already busy, fixing something that'll matter to someone by ten.

I took a booth at nine for a call I didn't want overheard. The pastor was in the next one. He was out four minutes later. Whatever it was, he'd solved it.

By eleven, no one had asked me to sign anything, no contract to break if it isn't right for me.

Lunch with the sound engineer, in since seven. The videographer pulled up a chair uninvited and made it better. Good chair, proper desk, plug where I needed it. Small things, but you notice.

Someone mentioned Studio Three was free. I put my head round the door. It locks, warm light, room for four.

The rocket scientist was leaving as I packed up. Sky, his dog, was at his heel, day done and done well. We took the teal stairs down together, out onto the high street. Half five, and I hadn't noticed the time.

Tomorrow, I think I'll take the studio.