Coastal Retreat Treat

I'm kinda fed up with the whole Canberra thing.  I'm utterly bored and miserable here.  I'm not doing what I want to be doing for a career - how the hell did that happen? - and every day I get more and more fed up with it.  It's like groundhog day without Bill Murray.  I would do just about anything to be self-employed.  But how does one change careers when you are in a secure job?  How the hell do people just jump and change careers anyway?  Scary times, indeed.

My birthday is this week.  If you are interested - and who wouldn't be - I will be turning 18 again, with 10 plus years experience.  I'm taking the day off work, because there is nothing more annoying than people at work celebrating your birthday and making so-called humourous references to how freaking old you are and everyone staring at you while you try and cut the cake like they've never seen someone cut a fucking cake before. 

And you're supposed to smile and take it.  I know it's cake, and I will usually do just about anything for a slice of cake (there is vast empirical evidence), but the whole activity just to get the cake is annoying.  Happy birthday, indeed. 

So I've got a five-day weekend coming up and I'm going to a detox farm.  Yes, a detox farm.  You know the place; full of angry humans who haven't eaten chocolate for a week, wheatgrass shots and starry-eyed hippies, those people that God later turns into corporate executives just to make sure we never lose our sense of irony.  Well my detox farm is going to be sort of like that, but mostly nothing like that.  Because it's going to be fun, for a start.

I'm going to a house down the south coast of Australia to pretend that I don't live in Canberra at all and that I am actually a coastal local.  Although the weather is predicted to be downright summerish, so there will be a lot of my fellow Canberrans lurking around, so I will be forced to brandish a faux moustache and novelty glasses when I head around town so no-one I know will recongise me.  Small price to pay.

I will go to the zoo, I will write, I will read, I will walk, I will attend the markets, I will buy useless and possibly hideous trinkets at the markets, and I will snigger endlessly at the tourists who must go back to work on Tuesday.  Oh wait.