As I sat in my borderline-need-of-a-wash dressing gown, and pondered the choice of either Super Noodles or a packet of Pasta ‘n’ Sauce for a hasty if not tasty late lunch, I couldn’t help but wonder…

How the hell did Carrie Bradshaw manage to afford all those cocktails, designer shoes, and New York brunches, when all she did for a job was write 300 words of fluff every week for a publication that merely required her to have sex and a sexy social life?

I’m of course talking about the protagonist from the hit US TV show, Sex and the City, although I’d bet that even if you’d managed to avoid watching the show in the nineties, dodged the two feature-length films in the noughties, and were mercifully spared the horror that was the spin-off that’s plagued our screened in the post-pandemic years of the 2020s, you’ll still know who Carrie Bradshaw is – and know that she had both the easiest and the most well-fucking-paid freelance writer gig in the world.

When I grew up watching the show and the films (and sadly, yes, I did punish myself with the spin-off), I didn’t necessarily covet Carrie’s particular lifestyle, but I did crave the ease and the freedom of everything that this carefree freelance writer’s life portrayed. I knew I could write, so it just felt for me that the hard part of freelancing (having a talent) was already in the bag. The rest of the freedom and rewards that our freelance icon enjoyed as a creative on screen would surely follow… wouldn’t they?

No. Apparently they would not.

I know it’s not the purpose of Hollywood to portray real life, but I still think the producers over at HBO could have made Carrie’s portrayal of a freelancer a little more realistic for those aspiring creatives like me who thought, “That could be MY job, one day…”.

For example, the director could have furnished Carrie with a pet cat, which would dominate our leading lady’s keyboard and perpetually restrict her ability to sit comfortably at her desk (never mind get any work done at it).

Or, perhaps the scriptwriters could have penned an episode whereby Carrie was given feedback on one of her articles, and subsequently spent the rest of the episode on a thankless quest to make her submission “pop with a bit more fizz”, or similar.

Would it even have been too much of a stretch for the producers to hint at the fact that the publication people didn’t always pay their protagonist on time, thus momentarily distracting Carrie from shopping and shagging to instead chase those pesky invoices whilst sending passive aggressive emails asking if there’s “any update” on the payment sitch?

I couldn’t help but wonder, if anyone on that show had any idea whatsoever about what life as a freelancer is truly bloody like.

I’m not going to tell you that Carrie Bradshaw inspired me to become a freelance writer, but she did sell me a dream that has been almost impossible to materialise ever since.

I’m not crying poverty or claiming I’ve got a terrible life here, by the way. With a little bit of talent – and a shitload of luck – I’ve done okay. Just not quite okay enough to live in a trendy Manhattan brownstone without any intention of ever cooking a single meal inside my own apartment.

And just like that, amid my watching and my wondering, my freelance dreams were Carried away.

Now, if you don’t mind, this freelance writer has got to go move the cat.