I was convinced that I would not get post-Ibiza blues. There was a point during my holiday that I was quite looking forward to coming home – too much laying around and I was getting restless.
Even a soaking downpour from the aeroplane to the terminal did not dampen my spirits, I remained in a good mood for the remainder of the weekend back in Reading.
Arriving at work on Monday morning to 358 unread e-mails was a relief as that is not too high a figure, and I was happily working my way through them. I was convinced that I was right, that I had escaped the Ibiza Blues.
But then out of nowhere on Monday afternoon, they struck with a vengeance.
Ever since I have been miserable, irritable, at times angry and daydreaming of violence. Not to mention the binge-eating, large cumulative lack of sleep and distinct lack of motivation.
It was when I was working through my accounts at work, realising it was the same old problems, same unresolved issues, same colleagues/customers that I keep chasing to resolve issues that are frustrating me in my attempts to meet and exceed my targets.
Banging my head against metaphorical brick walls. The only never-ending issues in Ibiza were which sunbed should I use. Do I have a beer or an absinthe. Which nightclub do I go to.
Bracknell is not Ibiza.
Sometimes it is better to be pissed off than complacently accepting life. Being pissed off and miserable right now is probably the trigger I need to change the scenario. I need to channel these negative emotions into something positive. Perhaps the issue is being in Bracknell as opposed to not being in Ibiza? I said something very similar last year.
But enough moaning. It is fabric’s birthday on Sunday. Just look at this line-up. Monday is booked off work.
Though I actually need another whole week off work.
Next year I am taking my holiday in Slough.