I’ve had my head down since April, working solidly. I’m scraping the creative barrel, running low on fuel, feeling frilly round the edges and in serious need of a break.
My other half’s at work next week, so I’ve decided to take the cheapest holiday on the planet and recharge my fast-failing batteries.
My favourite kind of holiday is camping in Britain. My second favourite holiday involves just staying at home, which is exactly what I’m planning.
It probably sounds like a nightmare to some of you! But I get such a kick out of pottering around at home, getting up when I feel like it, not having to go anywhere at all unless it’s somewhere fun, by choice. No trailing around airports, no waiting for delayed flights, no fannying around, no travel, no stress.
Instead of forgetting to eat most days because I’m so busy, I’ll be meeting friends for lunch. I’ll be absorbed into the garden for hours on end, secateurs in one hand and a glass of cider in the other. Getting the bus into Brighton city centre, or walking if I feel like it. Rummaging in antique and junk shops for treasure. Cooking extra-nice evening meals for Tony and I because I’m not in a rush. Sitting in the sun, if we get any, lost in a book for an entire afternoon.
Rather than spending eight hours a day hunched over my PC, I’ll be giving the house a proper clean (I am such a sad bunny – I adore housework), get the garage in order (it’s a nightmare), clean all the windows inside and out, and hoover under the beds too instead of just skirting around the edges in a fit of impatience because time’s so short.
I’ll be doing some painting – the creative sort – and there’s a gorgeous chunk of Sapele wood, nicked from a skip a couple of weeks ago, that I’m dying to carve into a sculpture for the garden. My wardrobe’s out of control again and I’m feeling menaced by the clutter, so I’ll turf it out and recycle/re-purpose the things I’ve stopped wearing.
I’m going to sleep in. Dance around the kitchen, grooving to our mate Phil’s latest funky House mix. Eat rich, dark chocolate and drink creamy mocha, watching the cats play on the grass. Polish wood ’til it gleams. Touch up the skirting boards. Spend a day poking about in Lewes with one of my best friends. Have my hair cut. Get a massage to soothe my aching neck and shoulders, which are completely cramped, crispy and crunchy from months of typing. Paint my toenails. Make guacamole.
I could go on. But you get the picture. It isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and a week at home with small children probably won’t ding your bell! But if you’re happy pottering, it’s 100% mellow. And it’s as cheap as chips.