Friday, 3 July 2009
I’m having a “staycation” for the first week of my holiday this year. Like all words that become too popular this word annoys the feck out of me, but as a descriptive term it works.
And I had all these writing plans while I was off work. I was SO full of good intentions. As it happens, I am so full of shit. The weather was awesome for the main part of the week, so who could lock themselves on to their computer? And I had all those books to review for the website. And...and...and...
And this book isn’t going to write itself. Dammit.
So on week two of my vacation - the part that is not a staycation - when I head up to the Scottish Highlands, I have a plan. My son is not a morning person - frankly, he’s been a teenager in waiting since he was about 4. For the greater part of the day he is charm itself, but in the mornings ... Not So Good.
By the way, any prospective burglars out there. Don’t waste your time. Apart from having to tidy up before you find anything of value, I have a watchdog neighbour. She’s lovely but does “withering” very well and has the local police station on speed dial.
The plan for the awaycation is this...I set my alarm for 7 each morning. Write for a couple of hours by which my son will be stirring like some bear coming out of hibernation. I’ll feed him berries an’ shit like that and plank him in front of his Play Station for another few hours. Then lunch. Then we go out and take in the sights for a few hours.
In case you think I’m a crap parent, this suits him perfectly. He gets to sleep as long as he likes. He gets to play his games. He then gets to visit places on fast forward – just as he likes it. Everyone’s a winner.
Another part of this cunning plan is not to take any books with me. I know, I know, it will kill me. This is me gnawing on my knuckles at the very thought. No books. It’s like fish without chips; KFC without chicken; a romantic comedy without cheese.
I can do it.
Another distraction is of course, continued contributions to this blog. The plan here is to see how it goes, ‘cos the blogs don’t really take up that much of my time. Noooo, I hear you protest, they appear so carefully constructed and perfectly worded that they must take HOURS.
There maybe the odd post. So don’t stray too far. I don’t want to lose y’all. Sob. Missing you already.
Other questions have been pushing themselves round my head this morning. Like, where did the sun go? Who sent all this rain? (It’s like a freaking tropical storm.) And who has been wearing all my clothes and leaving them in the wash basket? Since I’ve been on my staycation (is it annoying you yet?) I’ve worn nothing but shorts, t-shirts and sandals. Yet I have a washing full of socks, shirts, jeans, jumpers etc etc. Frankly, I’m sick of it. Heretofore, from hereonin and going forward the plan is just to go about naked while I’m in the house. Think of the planet. I’m saving on water and on the soapy stuff. Besides the only people who ever come to my door are my son, the postman and door to door salesmen. My son has seen it all before, for the postie I’ll cover up with a towel and the salesmen deserve everything they get.
I have this trick I do. I call it The Lassoo.
Speak soon, Peeps.