DB:LF

Cute Lucy at Baggy point

You may think we are lucky getting out of London for Christmas, breathing some fresh sea air and beaing able to stroll along the beach on Christmas Day. However, getting away is both the best and worst thing you can do at this time of year. 

It has been quite a while since my last break from work and I was getting ready to throw myself under the next tube at Victoria station having been delayed, squished, squahed, pushed, jostled and harrased by rude boy loud music blearing from peoples overly loud headphones!

Thank god I only had one more day and then a whole week and a half without the routine battle to get to work.  Christmas? is it Christmas or just a convenient excuse to get a well earned rest from work under the pretence of an ancient religious ritual which really doesnt apply to most people these days. Either way I’m bloody grateful I get that break!

Very few people I know actually care about Christmas in the traditional sense anymore, they care about getting a tiny little bit of their personal life back before it is quickly snatched away again on 2nd January. 

My family has taken to escaping to Devon for a week at Christmas…Being by the sea at Christmas is about as unchristmasy as it gets.  It’s quiet, the air is clean and people go surfing, walking and riding on Christmas day as opposed to sitting in the living room stuffing themselves with Quality Street while wathing Eastenders or similar rubbish. 

This year we went to Croyde and stayed in a beautiful little cottage right on the beach.  We walked a lot, talked a lot, ate quite a bit and took tonnes of photos ( I got a new lens for Christmas).  WE RELAXED.   

This fantastic break is all too soon matched by the horrendous awarenss that it is time to return home and put our busniess heads back on. Christmas is over for another year, our one opportunity to escape the rest of the world and actually spend some time together has expired once again, our time being free, absent of thought abouit about work and the joy of waking up to the sound of the sea every morning has gone. 

To add insult to injury and the rubics cube challenge of packing the car back up is followed by sitting in endless reams of traffic on the A303 with every other Londoner, desperate to get another fix of the big smoke, Wifi, lattes and conspicous post Christmas consumption. It’s so depressing. 

And just a whole year to endure before next Christmas?!

I do question why we do it to ourselves.  Are we hurting ourselves more by living the dream for a few days rather than not all?