I read Past Bedtime

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Hello, I'm Isobel!

 

 

Welcome to I Read Past Bedtime, a blog for 20-somethings finding their way in the world.

 

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Every adult child on a British family holiday

May half term has arrived and all any teacher wants to do is spend the next week lying in bed chewing vitamin C tablets before frantically cramming the last few days with work.

Why I am off on a family staycation, then, is beyond me.

I sit elbows on knees teeming with resentment, knowing that I’ll be first to go in the event of a car crash, which is all the more likely with Aunt Renée chatting away at full volume.  

The aggro starts before we’re even off the drive. All cramming in the car, someone is going to have to take the middle seat. Although I am approaching my mid-twenties, I know deep down that, as the youngest, it falls to me to take the hit. I sit elbows on knees teeming with resentment, knowing that I’ll be first to go in the event of a car crash, which is all the more likely with Aunt Renée chatting away at full volume.  

Minor victory had at the service station: the adults prefer not to stop but it is their weak bladders that make it a definite yes. I load up on savoury treats to wile away the remaining hours in the car. Crumbs that manage to permeate my tights begin to annoy me circa 40 seconds later.

Room allocation time (classic country house conundrum) and once again, I get last dibs. Conclude that I will have to get married and bring spouse with me to ever have a hope of having my own bed, never mind room. Ten more years of bunking then.

Activities enjoyed include eating chips in the car during a sudden torrential downpour and playing three games of Scrabble back to back

Despite glorious sunshine throughout the working week, the weekend brings thunder and lightening by the bucketload. Activities enjoyed include eating chips in the car during a sudden torrential downpour and playing three games of Scrabble back to back (an almighty win from me during game two is somewhat clouded by a crushing defeat from Grandma in game three). Try my best to see the funny side until Instagram reveals every other corner of the UK is enjoying glorious sunshine.

All this discussion about how work is going and repeating myself at full volume for the elderly is becoming wearing: it’s 2.30pm – time for a drink? Stand up but know I will be black marked as a rude and selfish child if I don’t offer round – half-heartedly ask the room does anyone need anything?

Pleasesaynopleasesaynopleasesaynopleasesayno

Ah. The whole room has a drink order, each unique to them. Fantastic.

Last day of the holiday and the itinerary is undecided: do we do what we want to do or what the relatives are convinced we want to do? With the former we can never be happy, with the latter we certainly won’t be.

It’s Wednesday of half term. Can I go back to work?