In the distant annals of time, when people wrote cheques on a daily basis and social media was reading the newspaper at the bus stop, I spent four years studying the fine art of print making, which these days is rather cynically referred to as "one of those useless degrees".
At the time, I gave no thought to future employment challenges and threw myself into art school life with boundless enthusiasm. What fun it was too, except for the bit when you graduated and were cut adrift, blinking in the cold, hard light of reality.
All of a sudden there was an expectation from well-meaning relatives that you'd find a real job instead of poncing (yes, that is a word) around in an apron, creating works on paper using printing techniques dating back to the 16th century. This wasn't the kind of employment you'd find advertised in the situations vacant columns, but I lived in hope.
Fast forward a couple of decades and the route to a creative lifestyle has been a series of misadventures through the more mundane aspects of existence, an exercise in making it up as I've gone along, peppered with healthy doses of faking it. So, it is with great fanfare that I inform you that printing onto fabric is one thing I can honestly say I am over-qualified to advise you on. On this occasion you're getting your money's worth.