OK, not so very new. Over half a century old, to be accurate. Coming up to a year old as a freelancer in my own right, and a good eighteen years behind me working as a translator for other people.

But you know, on this unseasonable day of hailstorms here in Mallorca, with the fresh scent of orange blossom and roses rising to my window, it feels brand new. I've never really found the time to keep up with a blog, although I've accepted payment to keep up with other people's postings. Who in the world has time to write about themselves in a blog?

Who can afford not to, as a freelancer or business owner? I've always wanted this, if the truth be told. A mug of coffee, indulging in a good old chat. Now I've found the right format, and the right house – a rambling pile more than twice my age. And that's over a century.

This time last week things looked very different, my concentration strained to within an inch of its life by the third reading through of a 22,500-word translation I'd completed the day before, due in by the weekend. My eyeballs actually bled.

Too much information? The scourge of our times. As a translator, you aren't allowed to skip the boring bits.

Note to self: work on scan reading skills.

When I worked at other people's offices I often used to say, "Have a good weekend". Now, as a freelancer, my friendly Friday greeting would be: "Hope you get a weekend." An increasingly scarce commodity, or one that arrives unannounced mid-week and then has you accepting horribly complex assignments for Monday morning.

Not this week, as after almost a year of trying to juggle the independent life of a lone scribe, it comes down to this: I'm not going to put down my pen and stop doing what I love just because it's everybody else's weekend.

Have a great one!