We took a pretend holiday home to my folks’ where I pretended we all get on well. A new direction in experimental good relations. Strangely, it sort of worked. I tried to pretend we weren’t broke when we returned; mainly because we were already broke before we left. Hence the word ‘holiday’ inserted into the re-branding of the trip.
Nevertheless, we did get to sneer at holidaymakers other than my beloved fellow gene-poolers having dusted off a hotel voucher veering dangerously close to its use-by date. Our over-nighter of an afternooner in the bar coincided with the Ulster Final. With the aid of German beer, I dug deep into my otherwise latent county loyalties. Nothing makes one yelp “G’wan …eh *whispers what’s his name again?*…” with such intensity than realising one is surrounded by supporters of the rival team gleefully applauding our wides. My right to always see myself as a victim was further vindicated when we lost.
But the trip was not without its enjoyable moments. I checked tripadvisor when we returned to see if anyone had a similar experience. Apart from a few neurotic Americans manically pacing the lower end of the star-ratings, it seems I was alone in the double sink triggering the imaginings of a scene reminiscent of a Wood Allen film. You know the one. The couple having a breakdown. Or one of them accusing the other of having one, just because they’re talking extra fast, and/or having an affair. Despite the opportunity to expand at length on our respective existential crises between moments of synchronised teeth-brushing, my fella declined to join me for the occasion. So I neurotically paced in front of the 800 inch TV instead before switching it on only for some plinky plonky jazz to permeate the room. It was almost authentically New Yoik except for the distant sound of sheep and a dog-eared copy of the RTE Guide on the table.
Which, coincidentally, was not unlike the state of my enthusiasm for returning to work, which I reluctantly undertook to do amid several valid alternatives put forward by myself. I elected to attempt coping with reality by refraining from listening to my voicemails until I had built up sufficient courage, and wearing my sunglasses all day indoors.
It’s been two days and I’ve graduated to answering the phone but my phone voice must still be on leave as everyone asks me if they can speak to me.
Thanks for asking.