When I wake up on the first morning after a brilliant holiday, I am filled with Reforming Zeal. It doesn't generally last too long but it's invigorating while it does.
last couple of days are good examples. Energy levels were a little low on my first day back, due to the after-effects of the journey home, combined with the need to unpack both my suitcase and Mr B's before engaging the washing machine in What It Does Best.
I dealt with this by watching box sets of The West Wing with Mr B. I know, I know, that doesn't take much physical energy - but if you have ever watched The West Wing you will know it certainly tests out one's mental agility.
Residual lethargy had completely departed by Tuesday morning so I woke as fresh as the proverbial daisy. Which was good as the first item on my To Do list was a checkup with my dentist and a Touch of Torture at the hands of the hygienist. The latter
asked after my holiday then commenced my scale and polish with such energy and enthusiasm that I was completely unable to answer any of her questions. One might have imagined that she, too, had just returned from holiday but she informed me, regretfully, that
she hadn't had a holiday for three years. Unless, she conceded, I counted holidays in Devon as "holidays"? I would have spluttered, dear reader, but I had one of those instruments lodged in the side of my mouth that sucks out all your saliva so I couldn't
even manage a Minor Splutter in Defence of Glorious Devon.
My dentist, the Wonderful Julie, aka my own personal Tooth Fairy, wanted to hear all about my holiday. She sat on her blue couch, I sat in the Big
Chair, and we had the Holiday Conversation first, before I surrendered my ordinary specs for her rose-coloured ones and she started probing my teeth rather than my holiday tales. This is the way all dentists should behave.
I raced off to a meeting at Voluntary Action Worthing to catch up on everything which had happened while I was away. Which turned out to be Rather A Lot. Isn't that always the way? It was a good thing that my Post Holiday Energy had not completely dissipated.
I caught the bus home with my head reeling with new information to be processed - just in time for a quick boiled egg and soldiers with Mr B before heading to the Delightful Delia's for an afternoon of cribbage. I had hoped all this new-found energy might
stand me in good stead but I only won one game out of three. Must do better. There were only four of us there so Jim regaled us with jokes which I did my best to commit to memory so that I could make Mr B laugh when I arrived home. By this time, as you can
imagine, my head was quite jammed up with tales from the West Wing, information about the local voluntary sector and Jim's dodgy jokes.
Today it was ironing, shopping and preparations for our fortnightly Nomination
Whist group. I am planning to offer everyone in the group one of my sunflower seedlings which have grown apace since I left them to their own devices. We can have a group competition! I will tell them. Mr B says to remember that he needs to be allowed First
Just as the Post Holiday Energy is starting to flag, the Middle of the Darling Daughters emails me lots of holiday photos and a few movies. One of the latter is entitled "Egg Roll". It shows me attempting
to lift an egg roll to my mouth at the same time escaping Tala's grasping fingers. She appears seriously put out about the fact that she is restricted to a milky diet - though her mother, the Middle of the Darling Daughters (who is clearly similarly possessed
with Post Holiday Reforming Zeal) tells me she has started weaning both Twinkles. I somehow doubt, however, that egg roll is on the menu.
Another movie, entitled "Oh, no!", has captured the essence
of Faris's favourite beach game, while a third, entitled "Nyody!" shows the Rampaging Rascal leading me a merry chase along the water's edge. "Nyody!" I should explain, is the rascal's own special word for when he wants or needs something. Or someone. There
is a lovely photo of me and The Rascal sitting on the sand, with our backs to the camera, as if engaged in quiet contemplation of the beauty around us. I am pretty sure I was feeding him cheesy fingers at the time which explains his attentiveness. Another
favourite photo shows Tala, aka Dora the Explorer, wielding a massive water pistol. I imagine this will come in useful if (or when) Pickle-Lilia, starts weaving her fingers through her twin's locks and pulling - hard.
Apparently, the day I left, the Rascal, off for a walk with his Dad, discovered my sun hat in a next door neighbour's garden. His mother, hearing his yell of "Nanni!" almost wondered if I'd missed my plane on purpose and found my way back to Arco Mediterraneo.
But sadly no - it was just my hat. Why its presence in the next door neighbour's garden came as such a surprise to Faris, goodness only knows.
After all, who do you suppose threw it there?!