I generally like my job (shhh don't tell them) but it's also a stressy pain in the arse and immensely good to run away occasionally.
Although so far I've spent an hour last night typing up and emailing out the notes I didn't have time to do before I left, and today done 3 lots of laundry, an hour and a half of ironing, been into town (and got heavily rained on), done some baking (and mangled my thumb knuckle on the cheese grater), changed the bedding, hoovered the downstairs and tidied. So far, I need a holiday from my holiday.
Anyway, this is by way of saying I'm going away tomorrow for a week, and may or may not have internets (it *says* there's broadband, but you never know).
Right, now what. Oh, yeah, pack, fuck.