I’ve come to the conclusion that I am physically and mentally incapable of achieving a state of relaxation. When I thought I was going to have four weeks off over Christmas (it was actually two weeks, strictly speaking, but four weeks away from “making content” for the internet) I made a big list of all of the things that I was going to do to relax. Then I realised that none of them were relaxing.
As it turned out, I spent most of the “holidays” feeling rough and having the sort of cough that makes people quickly back away with their scarves pulled over their faces, so my Relaxation List, painstakingly written onto the back of a pet insurance pamphlet with a blue biro, hardly even saw the light of day.
But I did make a few half-hearted stabs at “relaxation”, so I thought I’d share the list with you. A normal person’s list might include items such as Take a Warm, Oil-Scented Bath, or Listen to Favourite Podcasts. Not mine. I seem to be some sort of activity junkie. Or perhaps I’m just someone who’s yearning for order in their life. Someone who wants to be able to find a lid for the mini food chopper, or even the jug part to the Nutribullet, so that she can BLEND THE BLOODY SAUCE. Someone who has a burning desire to fetch all of the towels from the shed (where they are still packed in their “temporary” bin bag storage solution), wash them, dry them and fold them into the linen cupboard, but who ...