Three Weeks

I’m going on holiday in three weeks’ time and I really, really need it. Frankly, I’m beyond knackered and it’s reached the point where I can’t recharge my batteries properly even by getting a good night’s sleep. I’m also a bit moody and am feeling depressed. So when I grumble to myself that nothing’s going right, and react to pretty trivial things, I try to remind myself that this state of mind is only temporary, and that before long I’ll be all relaxed and lying on a glorious, golden beach, drinking alcohol in the middle of the afternoon and eating crazy amounts of yummy food.

I’m going to Grenada in the Caribbean, you see. I’ve never been to that part of the world before, and I’m looking forward to it immensely. Before I leave, though, I have to check that I don’t need any vaccinations. This means going to my doctor’s surgery to fill out a travel risk assessment form, and then making an appointment should it be determined that I require any jabs. Given how I’m feeling at the moment, though, even the idea of explaining to the receptionist that I’m going on holiday and asking for the form is making me incredibly nervous. I know that my stammer’s going to act up and make me look like a gibbering imbecile, and the thought’s creating one of those self-fulfilling prophecies of doom which do my head in. I can’t snap myself out of it either, as I’m too tired to get my mind straight. In one of my more ridiculous moments today, I honestly thought that I should just leave it and take my chances. Clever, eh?

And this, ladies and gents, is just one of the reasons why I need a holiday.

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