Back from my holidays for a little 'me' time
Officially as of tomorrow morning, I am back from my holidays.
After 17 days away from the office, I am back to the grind stone. But before you start feeling sorry for me – know this.
An hour before sitting back at my desk, I will be dropping my wife and daughters to the airport where they will be getting on an fantastical metal flying machine and not returning for nine days. Yes – NINE days.
Now, before you picture a Hangover-movie-style binge of coke and hookers in my near future – let me tell you that my party days are behind me. I promise not to wake up with a tattoo on my face between now and August 5.
Sure, I will go out on the p*ss at least three times and remain guilt free for stumbling in the door at baloobas o’clock and not worry about waking the kids.
But over the last few months in the build-up to this little single-life jaunt, which I’ve struggled to pretend to wifey that I’m upset about by the way, I’ve dreamt of doing some little things that a lot of people may take for granted.
I can’t wait to cook a huge vat of spag bol the way I like it. The kind with six different veg and fresh pasta and as much effing chilli flakes as I damn want. None of the bland blended crap that is suitable “for the kids!”
Throw in a card night at Chez-Keany with the lads, a Dubs win, a mini True Detective binge, some catch-up pints with the gang and the chance to sleep starfish on top of the duvet and it’s hard to believe that I’m actually coming off my holidays in less than 24 hours.
Now, is there any chance my missus won’t read this?