Tales of a City Girl

Holiday admin – the hell of taking time off

Yesterday I took the afternoon off work, and won’t come back until Tuesday. I booked myself into a manicure, and I’m off for a long weekend in Suffolk as soon as I finish this.  The past couple of months, Dan has been busy doing crazy-tired eyes at his work emails until gone 11 every night. Although I haven’t been as busy at work, it’s still been pretty busy, and socialising,  going to the gym and trying to work out a blog post that’s going to blow your minds is tough to keep up with, alright. So a little mini pre-Christmas break is pretty welcomed. But the admin can be so annoying.

Firstly, it’s the logistics bit.  Fannying around with trains and check-in times and trying to marry them up. Realising booking your train tickets before the day of travel really could’ve saved you a bob or two – in fact, it’s the equivalent to a meal for two in Pizza Express. Trying to gauge the weather and your outfit choices and working out which of your jumpers you haven’t got Dolmio down. Defying engineering works on your line to get to the station. Packing and remembering to print out your booking confirmation. Eurgghhh.

I remember my Mum had to banish us from the house when we were children so she could pack for our holidays. We’d go off to get some juice and go to the park with Dad, while she’d be folding T-shirts and laying out medicines and sun lotions with military precision. Packing is an art, and it’s not an art I can be bothered to learn.

The worrying about work bit is fun too. Have you tied up loose ends? Did you set your out of office? Are your projects going to go tits up when you leave for a few days? Will they, in fact, do the opposite and bloom and flourish under someone’s gentle touch and then they get the credit? So many minefields, am I right (I’m wrong. I always get back and nothing’s happened of note. The worrying is always in my own head).

Then it’s the personal grooming.  A conversation with myself the other day went a little something like this – 1. should I get a new bra? 2. Are we beyond me bothering to get a new bra for a weekend away? 3. Why is the Rosie at Marks and Spencers range so expensive?  4. What am I doing in M&S lingerie section anyway – Rosie’s pictures are everywhere and they make me feel like an Oompa-Loompa  5. I’ll just get a budget M&S bra online instead.

I am so boring.

You will, once you get to the hotel, realise you remembered something pretty worthless like cuticle oil – for all those times, when you’re away,  your cuticles need a bit of re-hydrating – but forgotten your toothbrush.

For all this, I love weekends away (in case Dan is reading this and wondering why he’s even bothering), but the admin of going away does my goat.

 

About me

I'm Florence and I like to write.

When I'm not writing about pensions and mortgages in my day job, I write about my life in London, in which I cannot afford a mortgage even if I sold off a kidney, and I've still got another 40 years at least before I can access my pension.

I'd say I'm an ordinary girl looking for an extraordinary life, but clichéd phrases really annoy me.

Read my blog to find out more about my pet hates; and more on the places and things I love. And if you want to, please feel free to contact me with article ideas or feedback.