Re-balancing the rat-race

Happy Jubilee everyone!  Whether you love or loathe HRH, having an extra bank holiday is enough to make most of us hum along to “God Save The Queen” – and not The Sex Pistols version either.  For me, it conveniently tags a couple of days to my two week holiday allowing me to to unwind, unpack and re-acclimatize to London life.  Today has been a rather chilled affair, lying in, making Jamie Oliver’s Breakfast Bread (highly recommended) and pottering around Greenwich Market.  Sweet.

Sadly, there is a niggling worry at the back of my mind.  Work.  In 60 hours I will be sat at my desk, trawling through what I estimate to be around four hundred emails and slowly losing my cool as my “to do” list grows to astronomical proportions.  My fear is fed by the memory of my last week at work before I went on leave.  Without a doubt it was one of the most challenging weeks of my career, with numerous unresolved cases to get to the bottom of – and a handful of incredibly difficult situations to deal with.  By the time I managed to escape the office on the Friday at 6pm I was exhausted – and just thankful I had at least managed to work through my “URGENT” list.

Needless to say, Saturday was a manic affair, packing, cleaning and shooting into central London to catch a must-see exhibition, suitcase in tow, before catching the train to Gatwick.  It took me a good 48 hours of sun, sea and sangria to slow down, relax and get into the swing of holiday life and it was day five by the time I was able to embrace the Spanish siesta. 

I’ve been back in Blighty a week now, but rather than being back in the big smoke I’ve been taking it easy in Kent, kicking back with a couple of girlfriends in an apartment in Broadstairs.  Within seconds of walking into our home for four nights I was wondering how much the beautiful two-bed flat with a sea view would set me back in today’s market.  24 hours in I had visited the up and coming Old Town in Margate (yes, really) and was fantasising about setting up my creative cafe among the galleries, craft shops and vintage boutiques already thriving in the quarter. 

So, here I am, back in my one bed flat, having spent most of this afternoon stuck on public transport, wondering if it is really worth it.  Would life be simpler out in the sticks?  Could I find my niche in a less pressurised job?  Maybe I could.  Or maybe I just need to rebalance those scales once more.  Either way, two weeks away from the rat race has got me thinking.

I guess I just need to put some of those thoughts into action.