It was my dream job. Ten years ago, I applied to an organization in Amsterdam and made it to the final round. How I was going to do that, the woman opposite me asked. 'With your commute and the children.' An impertinent question for a job interview, but still. I suggested starting on the train. I suggested working from home sometimes. But it was abundantly clear before COVID-19: everyone was expected at the office.<\/p>\n
The rejection was the final push towards entrepreneurship. As a freelance writer, poet, and journalist, I work from my own home every day. Wonderful. Before school, I am there for my children. As soon as they are out the door, I step into the shower. Or not. Because if I don't have any appointments, I also like to get straight to work. You can bet that most of what you read from me was written in my dressing gown. I am Freelancer Without Trousers. (Don't worry, around 11 o'clock I get in the shower after all. I am clean and fresh. Unfortunately, my delivery driver always arrives early. That man must surely think I sit around drinking sherry in my leopard-print bathrobe all day.)<\/p>\n
A journalist from De Telegraaf once asked me what on earth I was doing in Den Helder. He was doing a piece on a highly educated person living in Den Helder. Apparently, it had to be in the newspaper. 'Living in a lovely city, close to the sea, where my children can play outside,' I said. 'And what about your job?' As if anything more was needed than an internet connection and a public transport discount card. As if everything outside the Randstad was a dystopian wasteland. 'I work at the kitchen table,' I said.<\/p>\n
To be perfectly honest, that kitchen table was a wonderfully pleasant workspace, but also just\u2026 well, the kitchen table. When my whole family was out, it was delightfully quiet and much cozier than an office environment. Snacks within reach, the kettle my best friend, and a toilet all to myself. But as soon as one, then two, and then three people were home, it felt like my private office was being taken over by the local brass band. On top of that, all the musicians had lost their football boots, were thirsty, brawling, or otherwise in need.<\/p>\n
Now that we are moving to Weststraat, I am looking forward to everything, but certainly also to my own study. A place of my own with a large bookcase and my grandmother's old chair behind a desk with a view of Willemsoord. 'A room of one's own,' said Virginia Woolf. You need that to be able to write. 'No need to hurry, no need to sparkle, no need to be anyone but oneself.'\u2018<\/p>\n
The painter has just finished. It turned out bright pink, a bit pinker than I had expected, but I can already picture how it will soon become my place with plants and art on the wall. 'A sort of womb,' said a friend, because of the bright pink color. 'A whomb of one's own,' I replied, and I could already see myself sitting there in my leopard-print dressing gown. 'No need to be anyone but oneself.'\u2018<\/p>\n
Sometimes I still think about that job interview. Every day to Amsterdam, rushing in the morning (apparently bathrobes aren't appreciated in most organizations), and out the door before the children. I also sometimes think about that interview with the Telegraaf. 'What on earth are you doing in Den Helder?' Well, living and working, apparently, seeing my children, and soon even the sea when I look to the left out the window of my womb room. Every day I am glad that I once missed out on my dream job. I had no idea then that my future was already shining bright pink towards me.<\/p>\n
YANAIKA SUMMER\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Yanaika looks back on the question she was asked by the journalist from De Telegraaf: what on earth are you doing in Den Helder?<\/p>","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":23219,"template":"","doelgroep":[],"class_list":["post-23312","actueel","type-actueel","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","elementor_library_category-column"],"yoast_head":"\n