Open Writing

Walking the Tightrope by Sally Codman - 'Home is where the heart is' goes the old saying and most of us would agree - tell people that 'home is where the work is' - and you'll get some mixed reactions. Either they assume you're a housewife/househusband or childminder, or that you don't have a 'proper job'.

Others will look envious, before telling you they're also planning to become a home-worker and go on to remind you how lucky you are to miss the traffic jams and 'always be there for the children.'

As a part-time home-worker for the last seven years I have to agree 110 per cent about the traffic jams. I've never sat in a traffic jam that I wouldn't rather have missed. I usually manage to fix meetings to miss the rush hour, the only down-side to this being, that if we do hit a jam en-route to our hols, I've forgotten how to cope. I'm much worse than the kids and will propose 100-mile detours at the first sign of a snarl-up. Fortunately Mr C, who ventures onto the motorway network on a regular basis, usually ignores me.

The 'always be there for the kids' theory is, like the whole of the home-worker set-up, a mixed blessing. It means that 'the kids' have a tendency to take you for granted, volunteer your services for every school trip or activity that requires an extra 'body' (without consulting you first) and don't take your work seriously.

They used to try throwing a sickie at the first hint of a cold or anything else which made them feel the tiniest bit under the weather, because, of course, I'd be at home to look after them anyway. I soon cured them of this by introducing a rule which states that if they are ill enough to stay at home they are ill enough to stay in bed and much too ill to watch T.V. or use the Play Station or computer. It's a rule which produces a miraculous recovery from all but the most genuine illness.

Unfortunately this 'not a proper job' attitude doesn't stop with children. Unless you make it very clear that you are actually working at home and not just reading the paper and drinking coffee, other people will assume you always have time to spare. Anyone who needs a lift anywhere will ask you to take them, your kitchen is in danger of becoming a free coffee shop and people will assume you will be about when their new three piece suite is due to be delivered.

For home-working to succeed you have to draw some firm boundaries and ring-fence your working time and expenses. This is particularly hard during school holidays when Sod's Law dictates that you will be on the phone to your boss just as World War III breaks out in the next room. It is hard to remain calm and sound professional to a background of screams, bumps and 'I'M GONNA KILL YOU' shouts.

The same Law also dictates that people will ring you about work out of office hours, just as you are trying to stir saucepans and cook tea for six or set off, already late, for a child's swimming/music/football lesson.

Okay, I know what you're thinking, 'why do people work from home if it's all bad news ?' Well, of course, it isn't all bad, although when it does go pear shaped I have considered a job with regular hours where you clock in, clock out, take the money and leave all work concerns at work.

But on the days when I'm checking my emails before I'm dressed, sitting in the sun in the afternoon reading, or watching Wimbledon and promising myself I'll catch up on work commitments in the evening, I know I'm lucky.

In the school holidays when we pack a picnic, go swimming or take a trip to the coast, I know I'm lucky. If I had to do the nine to five every day I probably couldn't afford to work at all - given the cost of child-care and the poor wages most provincial journalists survive on.

Yes, on balance I know I'm lucky, very lucky. But there are still days when I long for a shed at the bottom of the garden - Dylan Thomas style - where I could work in peace, far away from the noisy battles of World War III.