Sorry about yesterday, I went on strike.
I get 24 days holidays a year, with a day added each month if I have to work more than eight hours overtime during the first four days in which GoldenEyes and I are expected to produce a whole load of reports. As this happens most months I have the equivalent of over six weeks holidays a year.
Which I find it hard to get my head around. I was self-employed for 19 years and during that time I took a week off at Christmas. I started taking summer holidays only when we started going on family holidays abroad, 12 years into my self-employment (occasionally the reasons for my nervous breakdown become clearer and clearer). Other than that I would take the odd half-day off if a really close relative or friend was getting married or had a baby.
If they did both on the same day I might take the whole day off so that I could stand by with hot water and towels, which as everyone who has watched The Waltons knows is all you need to deliver children.
As we are not going away this year I made no attempt to book any days off. Thus at the start of June I had 29 days holidays left so GoldenEyes printed out a calendar and dragged me into a meeting room. We crossed out all the days at month-beginning and month-end that I just can’t take off, crossed out all the days she was taking off and she looked at what was left. Then for each of the months she just marked days here and there, saying now, you’re taking those days off.
This means that I have today and Monday off, a four-day break which should be a time of bliss, rest and the delicious pleasure of listening to your kids having to get up when you don’t. Yet all week I’ve found it hard to get excited about it, and even yesterday on the bus home I wasn’t especially looking forward to it. Then I suddenly realised why.
I would have to write a post every day, so I wasn’t really on holiday at all.
I love blogging and want to write as often as possible, but hadn’t realised how the much the pressure of having to write something every day because I’d signed up (mentally) for the Postaday 2011 was getting to me. So I decided that I would not turn on my computer last night. I splodged in front of the telly, watched half a football match (well done, Stoke City), a Yankees baseball game that wasn’t even live and the last two episodes of a series that I recorded weeks ago.
The world did not end (actually maybe it did, I haven’t left the house today), WordPress did not send goons around to beat me, nor did they remotely remove the “I’m Part Of Postaday2011” sign from my blog. I am still devoid of ideas for the rest of the weekend but do not care as much.
I will continue to stick to the Post a Day, but only when I feel like it, like a devout Catholic who takes the pill and eats meat on Fridays.