I've been back from holiday for a couple of weeks now but have been trying hard to ignore the fact. I've been an ostrich, sticking my head in the London sand and pretending that I am still in that lovely holiday doze zone. Sadly, I now have to emerge and blink in the harsh light of reality.
Yup, I'm back in London. Yup, back to work and no more lazy days with the girls running around and not giving a stuff about the mountaineous pile of laundry/ washing up/ whatever. No more getting up late to a pile of croissants and no pressing deadlines. I'm getting used to that knot of mild panic twisting ominously in my gut again, always somewhere in the background, always nagging away as I race from place to place, always about to be five minutes late and not sure how I'm going to fit everything in to one short day.
Still, I guess if I was in holiday mode the whole time there wouldn't be much to look forward to. But then again, can you ever get too much of a good thing? Possibly not.