As mentioned earlier this month, there is still some catching up to do (yes, I still want to tell you more about the GamesCom and write about Patience, and Gratitude, and some other stuff such as Lost in Time and Space), but tomorrow afternoon, RJ and I will board the plane that is supposed to take us to Mallorca (or Majorca, as the island is probably named on your maps if you are neither German nor Spanish).
Ever since I have started on the new job on the 2nd of May, I have not had a proper break - the week in Cologne was too exhausting to count as a break, and although I am by no means stressed out (that's the great thing about my job: I can pace my tasks as I see them necessary, and even though I am employed, it often feels as if I am self-employed, or working free-lance, with no boss constantly looking over my shoulder. And believe me, I do work, even though urban legend has it that I do nothing but sunbathe on my window sill all day, coffe mug in hand), it will be nice to add another week to The Summer We Did Not Have, and have no worry in the world except for getting up in time so as not to miss breakfast.
Pukky will take care of everything here (well, she will have some help from my parents; she does not have thumbs, after all - which reminds me, have you ever had the chance to read my short story, "How the Cat Lost Its Thumbs"? - oh, look, I'm doing it again - digressing... just goes to show, I really can do with a break!).
And you can be certain my camera will be going with me!
Regarding Mallorca as a place for vacation - I have never been there, and must confess I have lots of prejudice against it. Every time someone asks me where I'm going, I hesitate to tell them and feel almost as if I had to publicly admit that I am an avid reader of Germany's BILD paper (which I am NOT) - the BILD being the equivalent of the UK's SUN (sorry, don't know the equivalent for other countries; just imagine the worst tabloid piece possible). And then, every time I do admit that I am going, in fact, to Mallorca, I get the same reaction: Everonye invariably tells me what a great place they've heard (or experienced) the island is, as long as one does not go to the infamous place where the sunburnt Brits and Germans drink Sangria from buckets (I am not kidding you!) through long straws and are drunk non-stop for the entire duration of their stay.
Just as you can be certain that I'll take my camera, you can be certain that I am not going to drink Sangria at all (don't like the stuff), let alone with a straw out of a bucket. Instead, RJ and I are looking forward to walks on the beach and in the nature reserve close to the village where we are staying, the occasional dip in the Mediterranean (if it is warm enough for my liking) or the hotel pool, and generally doing NOTHING.
So, until next week Wednesday or so, I'll say good-bye!