How many cups of tea and coffee does it take before an Englishman can leave the house?

Fuck loads apparently. I was recently in Pembrokeshire for a week long holiday. A whole week of sea air, big waves and nice looking cows. We took our bikes this year which was a good suggestion on my dad’s part. I could see over the hedges and stop to look at baby bunnies which I just wanted to hop right into my arms. I had my bike panier carrying my swimming gear and our lunches, making it easier on the back, harder on the legs, climbing the hill to the top of the cliff. Poor dad had the bodyboard strapped awkwardly around his back, the wind threatening to blow him over. Being a giant however, it was an empty threat.

All these cold showers I’ve been having has obviously had an effect. I still screamed at the first big swell, you know the one that gets right up to your nipples, but I managed to stay in for a good twenty minutes. Waves bowling me and my BFG over, I nearly left the sea with one less bikini than when I entered, but I walked back to my towel dignity intact, feeling fresh as a seal pup (I might add I traversed the beach a little more gracefully than a seal). It doesn’t take long, even if the sky is blue, for the cold wind to force you into a fleece in Britain. So there I lay, fully clothed, soaking up the rays whilst the wind blasted over me with that refreshed, relaxed, battered by the sea feeling. Lovely.

Back at the house and trying to relax in the same room as your parent’s mobile phone is an impossibility. Not because they’re blasting out tunes or watching TikToks, but because of the ring tone loud enough to shock someone out of a coma. Or in my case, a nap. Who’d have thought our parents would ever even own a smart phone and now we have to endure being jerked out of our relaxation? Time for a hearing aid I reckon.

I’m naturally an early riser, and like to get out the house before I have to start my work day. Even though I was on holiday, being in the house made me feel I should be writing, the memory of a looming Bafta competition deadline keeping me company for the week. I imagined we’d be sitting around reading books and sipping wine, allowing me to finish my work within the first three days, but it turned out to be quite action packed. I did manage to write a sketch on the last night which relieved some of the worry but I hope I’ve learned my lesson. Note to self; never take my work on holiday again, cold water submersion makes you forget everything, and if you want to get your family out the house a little earlier just hide the teabags.

Sarah

P.S. I highly recommend bike paniers, they can carry lots and lots of baby bunnies.

Posted by:wardygoeswest

2 replies on “Taking your work on holiday is a very bad decision and I’m an idiot

  1. Very interesting point about hiding the teabags to get your family out of the house quicker – this would work well in my family. Very well written as always, Your writing style is great x

    Liked by 1 person

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