Three Days – The Long Weekend

I’m in the middle of the bank holiday weekend. Mayday, a traditional time to celebrate the working masses. Trust me, the irony isn’t lost for one second. It’s strange how quickly you can get into an existence. I’ve shut myself away for the past couple of days today I got some bread out of the freezer as it seemed to negate the only excuse I could reasonably think of to actually leave the house. So I spent the day indoors doing exactly what? I couldn’t tell you. I watched a proper old fashioned afternoon movie, ate food and just sat around waiting for the day to end because I really didn’t have any desire to do anything.

On Thursday I had been out early in the evening and was having a drink in a bar. I fell into conversation with the barman about the Soho Bomb and the 10th anniversary. He asked me what I was doing for the weekend and it was only then that I realised it was the bank holiday. It had somehow slipped my mind and become an absolute irrelevance. I realised I didn’t want to surround myself with people savouring an extra day which meant nothing to me. It was just another day. Its relevance, its special nature had been robbed. I told him I had no plans. I didn’t. I didn’t care either. Right now I’m deep in Garbo complex, and I want to be alone.

My days are drifting and I’m no nearer finding any sense of a routine than I was at the start of the week. I simply can’t find any kind of motivation. I know this is bad and it has to stop but I am beginning to conclude that there is nothing better to do than just seize the moment when it arrives. It will, as I have always managed to be remarkably resilient about the difficulties I’ve had in the past. At some point I will simply wake up and find I can just move on, move forward and things will be back in perspective. For now I’m just going to have to get through this rather rubbish time of it and wait for that morning when I wake up and just know I have to get up and do it. It won’t be within the next couple of days, but it’s coming.