Franz Ferdinand was of course right, it is better on holiday. Mostly because you are in someone else’s house. And because in someone else’s house there is no stuff it looks all nice and empty and clean. But being on holiday doesn’t do anything for my work ethic. I would like to report that I was a flurry of creative activity with poems pouring out with summer holiday flair. Truth is I did hee haw. Watch Passengers (2016)
Actually that’s not entirely correct. I did a bit of reading, finished the 52 book (still gutted that I wasn’t in time to get into that facebook group!). I did scribble a draft of something and weirdly I wrote a draft of a short story one morning which surprised me because I don’t write short stories usually but hey, it’s always better on holiday.
I’m home now and my house, lovely as it is, is not a nice empty posh place with really nice hand soap (£9 a bottle!! I looked it up with romantic thoughts of having it at home but – £9 a bottle!). But a bit of me is looking forward to the schools going back and a bit of routine returning. I’m all out of sorts. Once the schools are back and I can have proper writing time. I haven’t had proper time for months now due in part to the summer but also due to my own creative breakdown. I am hopeful it is over (for now!). Also I really need to stop eating ice cream, at least for a day.
One thing I thought a lot about when I was away was how thankful I am for the handful of people who stuck with me when I went tits up with my writing. Friends I had who were essentially writing friends did one of two things. They either just fell away as I did or the stuck with me. It was pretty black and white. Which is not to suggest I feel resentful because I get it, people are busy, busy, everyone is just doing their best and it’s impossible to be all things to all people. But still, thank goodness for the ones who stayed, the ones who reached out, the ones who stuck with me even if I was doing bugger all writing wise and was in all honesty a bit depressed. So hurrah. Hurrah for holidays with posh soap and an abundance of ice cream and double hurrah for a return to routine and the friends who refuse to go.