Holiday

Yesterday I finished work for a six week holiday. Actually, not quite six weeks. I am owe them three days because my start date was mid-way through the holiday year. I kept quiet, thinking I've given them quite enough, but they sussed me out.

It finished with a whimper, not a bang. No big night out for my department. No office sweets or biscuits or champagne. I left just after 5pm, walked home, had a bath, then watched Big Brother.

I'm glad to be off. But I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do with myself. My friends will all be working, and I'm not planning on jetting off anywhere glamorous.

Will I return after summer? Probably. After a few weeks, my room-mate's husband suggested that she didn't continue with the job if she wasn't enjoying it. As she sees the job as a route to maternity leave and then working part-time, she declined. If I had that same offer, I'd have jumped to it in a heartbeat. But, until I can find something else, I'm stuck.

Maybe the break will do me good. At the very least, I am planning a lot of lie-ins and long lunches, catching up on the friends I've completely neglected for the last six months. Let's just hope I don't gain back all the weight I've lost through stress and generally running around like a maniac.

Holiday - Madonna