So, for the last few days I just haven’t felt like dancing ("Dancing! Dancing! When the old Joanna plaaaayyyys." God, I love that song…),and by "dancing" I mean "blogging". I haven’t felt like blogging ("Blogging! Blogging!") and the reason for this is that, well, absolutely nothing has happened. Nothing. I mean, OK, I managed to almost lose both my knee-cap and elbow in random household incidents today, but, for the most part my days have been looking like this:
09:00: Sit at desk
<about 14 hours pass>
23:00 Leave desk. Go to bed. Read trashy novel about gypsies who marry earls. Sleep.
And that, folks, is my life right now. So dull, and yet at the same time, stressful, that it’s making me long for the days of near death experiences and totally random falls. What I long most of all, for, though, is a holiday. As things stand, I haven’t had an actual, honest-to-God holiday since May 2004, when we went to the Big Fat Greek Wedding of Terry’s brother, in Athens – and even then we managed to wander into a gay bar by mistake in our search for "entertainment". Them were the days, I tells ya.
Since then, it’s been pretty much all work, all the time, with only the odd day off here and there, and when I say "odd day off" I’m really not exaggerating. I could probably count the days off on both hands, actually. Burned out, much? Luckily, of course, we have our lovely honeymoon coming up soon (well, March), so that’s good, isn’t it? Well, maybe. This weekend Terry did a quick raid of the local travel agents and returned with a bag full of holiday brochures for us to pursue at our leisure. It was only then that we realised the awful truth: that we are getting married the day after the schools break up for the Easter holidays. Yes, we’re choosing to honeymoon at the most expensive time of the year, bar none. Seriously, even mid summer is cheaper. Gah.
At this juncture, of course, a week in a caravan in Bognor would seem like bliss to me. Just as long as there’s no Internet and no phones…