The Holiday is Over

The thing about being a self-employed dilettante musician/writer functional alcoholic borderline disordered personality is that you’re always on holiday and yet rarely ever have a real break. In fact holiday time is often an irritating disruption to the normal flow of life, full of people who normally leave one alone all blessed day, and of disagreeable tasks like shopping at a time when the shops are often unaccountably closed. It’s a time to be ignored or at worst endured, and for the last four or so years I’ve been more or less chained to the keyboard throughout, driven to perpetually produce stuff as though any absence would bring my whole little world crumbling down. I am, it seems, what I do.

This year was different, and with my partner securing a viable slab of annual leave, I decided to switch off for once. We even went away for a while, spending nearly a week attending the Woodford Folk Festival (photos and possibly review of sorts coming soon… ish), but otherwise we just bummed around, attended parties, held parties, moved beer o’clock from the normal 5pm to somewhere around lunch time and generally had a relaxed but debauched time with friends and family. I got a tan. I got a pimply bum (blamed on the QLD weather and continually sweat-drenched undies). I wrote half a song. We had fun and we had some ‘interesting’ times, but ultimately it was all good, I feel refreshed and we’re looking forward to a great year.

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