So, last December, when I still wasn’t receiving JK Rowling sized advances or royalty checks, I got myself a job. As much as I loved being at home writing all day, it wasn’t paying enough and so I got myself a job as a receptionist at a GP surgery.
I answered the phones to people who were usually less than pleasant most of the time (you wouldn’t believe the way people talk to GP receptionists!) until about May 2019, when it became clear that they needed a phlebotomist and as I had been trained in phlebotomy years ago, I put myself forward for this change of role and I’ve been doing that (unfortunately still being on reception a couple of days a week) ever since, until last week, when I booked myself a week’s holiday.
Here in the UK, we’d been enjoying a heatwave. Temperatures in the 30s, sweltering heat, gorgeous sunshine, UNTIL i took my week off work, when it decided to rain all week and accompany that delight with gusty winds.
Typical! So, as we were stuck in the house, I decided to enjoy myself as best I could. I rediscovered my love for crochet and tried my hand at my first amigurumi (a little sperm whale) and as that was a success, thought, as you do, that if I could do that, I could do anything and attempted a Freddy Kreuger doll (and yes, his bladed hand is missing, because I’m still doing that and it wasn’t ready for this blog!)
I picked up some books and had reading marathons. I engaged my children in chats and on Thursday, when the sun broke out ever so briefly, we had a day trip to Brighton, just to say we’d had some fresh air all week, after being cooped up inside.
Today, I go back to work (It’s Monday as I write this) and guess what? The sun is shining again and will do all week according to the weather forecast, but I never expected anything different. You see, ever since I’ve been married to Nick (22 years) every holiday we plan goes wrong somehow. Our cruise ship gets put into dry dock and our cruise cancelled. Our car breaks down. The weather ruins it. Our plane gets diverted because of a bomb threat. A family member gets sick. On two occasions, a family member died (grandparent) on the very day we were meant to leave for our holidays, creating a situation where our family now jokes that we’re never to take holidays ever again, as we’re dangerous!
Oh well. At least I got a week off, even if I didn’t go anywhere.
How about you? Got any funny holiday stories to share? I’d love to hear about them. Anyone who responds will be put into a draw and one person will win a copy of my book, Pregnant By The Single Dad Doc!