I tried to have a 24 hour holiday and didn’t quite manage to pull it off like the friend I bumped into whilst out shopping. ‘I’ve been in bed all morning watching films,’ she declared. ‘Only just got up!’ It was 4pm.
I rose at 8am, went for a run, updated a client’s social media and attempted to make inroads into the novel. I only managed a measly 1000 words, but I guess that’s better than nothing.
I also received a couple of work e-mails I couldn’t ignore and had to write a press release. I had half a mind to respond with ‘I am having a day off, go away!’ but couldn’t quite bring myself to. Why is that? Why can’t I be like the friend who spent half the day in bed? She holds down a top job, so it’s not as if the occasional bit of time off does her any harm.
It’s nose back to the grindstone for real tomorrow. Boo. The Bank Holiday is over before it feels as if it has begun. Still, if I can make money, surely I can make holiday too?
I am the mistress of my own destiny, a money magnet and a bountiful badass.