Waking up tired on holiday

Have you ever woken up tired and counted the hours until bedtime, knowing itโ€™ll be a hard slog until then?

Thatโ€™s how itโ€™s been for me lately.

Itโ€™s strange though. Iโ€™m on holiday, nothing to worry about, meant to be having a nice time. And I am.

Except it all feels just a bit heavy. Nothing badโ€™s happened. No fallings out. No upsets. But it feels like a light fog has descended over everything.

Weโ€™re on a farm. Feeding the donkeys should be nice. But Iโ€™m thinking about animals in cages destined for the slaughterhouse. Farms closing and the loss of traditional livelihoods too.

We visit an animal sanctuary. Itโ€™s great they are giving so many ex-circus animals a better home. But thoughts of the not so lucky animals are ruining the experience.

A loud South African chap is talking about Trump and Epstein as we try to watch the lemurs jump about playfully.

I might want to unexpectedly grab him by the collar and shout in his face. But the fog seems to have dampened that urge. Instead, I shrug and walk on.

Weโ€™re only a few days into the holiday after a hellish few months.

Perhaps feeling a bit out of sorts is to be expected when you finally stop having anything specific to focus on. Perhaps thatโ€™s why we collectively work, a mild anaesthetic of sorts. Keeping us busy enough not to think about why weโ€™re doing it.

I donโ€™t know. But Iโ€™m going to wait it out for a few more days to see what happens. Hopefully itโ€™s nothing more than a temporary slump.

Otherwise Iโ€™m in trouble.