Holidays are supposed to make you feel relaxed aren't they?
I've just had over 2 weeks off work and look like some disheveled hobo with TB. The stress rash I developed on my scalp has started bleeding so I now have red dandruff.
Things didn't start well. 2 days before my holiday we were all told that our department was being restructured. That's business speak for cutting back on staff but not the volume of work! The bottom line was 'If you don't have a job in the new department by the following week......you're out' My 'interview' had been booked for the following Tuesday. In Bradford!
OK I should have made a decision then to postpone my holiday but I'd already agreed to house sit for friends so my hands were tied. So started the weirdest vacation ever.
I hung around at home over the weekend. No point traveling South for a couple of days to come home and then venture to the North for the interview. Hanging around just made me more anxious, so by the time I got to Bradford my breathing sounded like a camel having an orgasm.
I covered myself in Garnier Shine Control moisturiser and Sure Extreme Protection but still sweated up like a Turkish wrestler.
The interviews were behind schedule and in the end I landed up with the after lunch slot with a woman from Human Resources wearing low slung pants and a short cardigan. Neither came close to covering her ample and blotchy stomach. I was transfixed on the messy belly button that looked like it had gone sceptic after a botched piercing. She was having problems keeping her eyes open. Was I boring her to death or had she had a couple of pints and steak pie and chips down the pub for lunch. This slug was deciding my future career!
30 minutes later it was all over and I was despatched back to London to continue my anxious wait/holiday. A quick change of suitcase and I was off to the seaside.
Arrived in Brighton and headed off to the chemist to get my prescription. As luck would have it the local chemist closes early on a Wednesday so now I can feel a panic attack coming on.
17.15 I have no idea where the next chemist is. I start walking East. Not sure why but it seemed to make sense at the time.
17.26 I find another chemist in the nick of time. A small, surly Scandinavian woman is getting ready to shut up shop as I bluster through the door, knocking over a display of cheap reading glasses. The troll gives me daggers as the pharmacist takes pity on me and agrees to make up my prescription. I buy a purple nail clipper set out of gratitude.
17.36 I wave goodbye to the pharmacist and her grumpy troll and head back.
17.37 A monsoon hits Brighton and t shirt/shorts and flip flops suddenly seem inappropriate. 3 blocks later and I'm drenched. I've stuffed my drugs down my shorts to keep them dry but I'm soaked through to my Calvins.
17.48 I eventually make it home and collapse with my drugs and a bottle of Jacobs Creek.
Things can only get better.......................right?
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