The news has been so tumultuous recently, it’s ramped up my seasonal need to escape. It’s less to do with the weather, more to do with the constant stream of work events, festivals, hen dos and weddings that clog June and July.
Years of conditioning at a young age have programmed my body to expect at least six weeks off around now. Lol. Good one educational system.
We’ve got armies of knackered Wharfers stumbling from work, to social events, to the gym, and back again, trying to function while dealing with things like bikini waxing and the falling pound.
We need energy, and optimism, and lots and lots of coffee. What we’ve got is the muscle memory of lying in front of daytime television complaining we’re bored.
Things have become unnervingly changeable since the referendum. Markets. Currencies. Party leaders. Forerunners. Failures.
Have you noticed how knackered all the newsreaders look? They’ve got huge bags under their eyes. I don’t think anyone’s let them leave the building.
I imagine each time they get near the door, someone else resigns and they’re all called back in.
This is why they invented 24-hour news channels: now we actually have news in each of the 24 hours.
I could really go for some good old fashioned boredom right now. It sounds so restful.
Perhaps we need a collective time out. The bods at the top haven’t got a plan. I’m not sure anyone’s slept soundly since the result came in.
We all need a nap. And some milk and cookies. And a nice story where everyone lives happily ever after. It must be the end of term soon.
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