Holidays, help!

I don't think I hated holidays as a kid . There were sandwiches, pop, walking for a long time in afternoons on beaches singing "We all live in a yellow submarine" and "Penny Lane" with my family. Nine of us altogether. The Beatles seemed to figure a lot on these treks.

We got warm and tired and flushed. 

These days I'm older, and anxious. Theres a flurry of worries about times, tickets, packing. I sink a bit, grit my teeth and think about having to do nothing. I can't do nothing!. I'll drown like the shark that has to keep moving or it'll die..or so I've heard. Science was never my strong point.and I paddle through these murky waters of takeaway coffees, station platforms, must-read best sellers.

Billy Connelly din't like holidays and Ian Botham used to go off on his own ..somewhere.

I like mucky hands, soiled sweaty shirts from labour. I've forgotten how to play away from home. Work is too much fun. Lights, amps, set lists, a roar of noise and energy that Brid or Kendal can't match. 

I won't write them off completely, holidays, but I just think they're not for me, until something changes inside.

Cheerio.