Ibiza Blues

I was convinced that I would not get post-Ibiza blues.  There was a point during my holiday that I
was quite looking forward to coming home – too much laying around and I was
getting restless.
Even a soaking downpour from the aeroplane to the terminal
did not dampen my spirits, I remained in a good mood for the remainder of the
weekend back in Reading.
Arriving at work on Monday morning to 358 unread e-mails was
a relief as that is not too high a figure, and I was happily working my way
through them.  I was convinced that I was
right, that I had escaped the Ibiza Blues.
But then out of nowhere on Monday afternoon, they struck
with a vengeance.
Ever since I have been miserable, irritable, at times angry
and daydreaming of violence.  Not to
mention the binge-eating, large cumulative lack of sleep and distinct lack of
motivation.
It was when I was working through my accounts at work,
realising it was the same old problems, same unresolved issues, same colleagues/customers
that I keep chasing to resolve issues that are frustrating me in my attempts to
meet and exceed my targets.
Banging my head against metaphorical brick walls.  The only never-ending issues in Ibiza were
which sunbed should I use.  Do I have a
beer or an absinthe.  Which nightclub do
I go to.
Bracknell is not Ibiza.
Sometimes it is better to be pissed off than complacently
accepting life.  Being pissed off and
miserable right now is probably the trigger I need to change the scenario.  I need to channel these negative emotions
into something positive.  Perhaps the
issue is being in Bracknell as opposed to not being in Ibiza?  I said something very similar last year.
But enough moaning. 
It is fabric’s birthday on Sunday. 
Just look at this line-up.  Monday
is booked off work.
 
Though I actually need another whole week off work.
Next year I am taking my holiday in Slough.

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