It is upon me, I can nearly taste it behind the vat of blackened coffee I've just drunk. Drank? No, it's definitely drunk.
Two and a half weeks off. After today's 3-11 shift covering the football and Liverpool's capitulation to Wigan, I'm not back in work until February 15th.
There's a wedding this weekend in the Midlands, then I'm off to see the folks briefly before three days in Dingle spent alone. I've just booked a room. I'm going to put some shape to an idea I've had for a while, one that's been knocking on my head in the quiet times, cajoling me into writing it.
When that is done I'll set about the project proper, maybe stopping for refreshments and cinema appointments and blogging along the way.
Then, just when I'm getting used to the languor, I'll sink into deepest depression at the prospect of becoming a desk jockey, once again.