Holiday Journal - Day 9

Holiday Journal - Day 9 - 31/08/08

We woke up after very little sleep and struggled through the journey home. Somehow our luggage seemed to increase in size ten-fold, and we had a million bags to carry through assorted trains and buses.

I had left-over pasties from the party for breakfast and lunch. I now feel about 50% pasty (up from my usual 30%).

Coming home was great. Nothing had been stolen, and there didn't seem to be any floods/murderers. There's no socialising to do, and we can walk around in the nude. I'm sure my parents wouldn't have said anything if we'd tried nude-walking in Sidmouth, but propriety caused us to be clothed.

So, the holiday is over. And I'm fucking shattered.

I always feel that you need a week off to recover from your holiday. It's like a quarantine procedure. I'd like to be purged of the trauma of novelty and scheduling and unfamiliar linen. But there's no time, and I'm off to work tomorrow. It will be a culture shock to find myself suddenly in a world where spreadsheets are everywhere and incest is frowned upon.

And I'll get some rest when I'm retired, I suppose.