Mrs 6000 has finished work (which doesn’t explain why she’s still writing emails opposite me right now) (hmm) and the kids are long done with anything school-related.
Even the jobs which we need to get sorted before The Move are now getting put on hold for the next few days.
It doesn’t matter that this is going to be a very odd holiday: it’s also going to be a very important holiday after a year which has taken everything from us. And so no, I have no qualms about everyone taking a few days away from “stuff”.
It’s the lead up to Christmas. Religiously speaking, we don’t celebrate Christmas, although I believe that there are some who do. However, I fully admit that we have somewhat hijacked the holiday period in order to have… well… a holiday and to celebrate the end of another busy year. I’m not ashamed to behave this way: it’s a great excuse to see family and friends, and at least try to escape the slings and arrows of the frankly outrageous fortunes of the previous twelve months.
I don’t think we’re alone in this ‘borrowing’ of late December. Experience suggests that this is a practice shared with many other heathens.
I like to spread my festive period as widely as possible. Things are a little different this year, due to circumstances that I may go into sometime, but I like to have things done by yesterday – the 21st. And by ‘things’, I mean the shopping, a good spring clean of the house, the wrapping of gifts and the roasting of chestnuts*. Then I can fully relax.
So, did I manage to get all th… no. No, no I haven’t. I’m some distance from being ready, and we’re about to head off to an all-day braai in Fishhoek. And that leaves tomorrow, because the 24th is fully booked up and the reindeer traditionally bring the fat bloke in later that evening.
I want to be done. I’m not. There’s a strange sense of disorganisation around me this year and I’m actually rather uncomfortable about the whole thing.
*it’s currently 33ºC outside. Any hot, festive foodstuffs can actually like to voetsek.
This is just the first batch, documenting only the first few days of the holiday as well. I do seem to have taken a lot of photos. Looking back through them now, I couldn’t even remember taking some of them.
The one above though: well, I decided that I couldn’t sleep, jumped off the boat (fortunately on the dry side) went wandering around a deserted village in my nightwear looking for shots.
There’s still another week of France to come before we head over to the UK and the Isle of Man.
And there are still all the images from my phone and my Mavic.
This morning – right now, in fact – I find myself sitting in front of a computer in an office adjoining a laboratory.
This isn’t right, is it? Is it?
Surely there should be boats and fields and seaside and beer and family and sunshine?
Sure there should be… freedom?
But no. We’re back, after yesterday’s marathon twenty-something hour trip. It’s been a truly amazing few weeks away and I’m not quite ready for this sudden return to work. There’s sleep to make up, thoughts to process, photos to edit, stories to share (oh, so many stories – this one was eventful), reviews to post.
And on top of all that, there’s real life to catch up on.
I’m in that weird place between the exhilaration of travel and the crushing realisation that it’s all over. Limbo. A twilight zone.
Last time we were on the Isle of Man, it rained. It rained a lot. It very rarely stopped raining. And then we went to Sheffield in it rained some more.
Now I know that the UK (of which the Isle of Man isn’t part), has a bit of a reputation for this kind of thing, but the summer of 2012 was unprecedented in its raininess. There were literally a couple of nice days during our entire three week stay. The Flickr collection I made is testament to this.
We deserve better this time.
Of course, I not forgetting that we did get better back in 2009. The holiday where I regularly ended up taking our toddler son out (not in an assassination kind of way) at 6am before he woke up the whole household because he’d forgotten how to sleep: