There was a knock at the door. I knew who it was, He had already visited twice. My heart started racing and I knew what was coming.
So I picked up my keys and handed them straight to the rather aggressive looking man that had just knocked on my door.
It was a bailiff. He had come to take my car away. I handed the keys over, a towaway lorry immediately reversed in to my drive, loaded the car on and drove off. My favourite Peugeot 307 had gone. I had no car.
It was the lowest point of my life, and at the time I couldn’t see any way back.
I had been working over 80 hours in a week in the studio, desperately trying to make ends meet with a team of over 20 people but it was all too much. I had sacrificed everything and it had come to this.
The next thing to go after that was my beautiful first home. It got repossessed, and I had lost everything. I was truly devastated.
I totally thought that was the end of my 12 years as a photographer, and my dream of making it had slipped away and I should just get a real job.