Róisín Ingle . . . on needing a holiday

Are you on holidays reading this? I hate you. Oh, not really, I'm sure you're great. Don't mind me. It's not like I am sitting here in Irish Times Towers counting down the days before I board a Brittany Ferries super-vessel from Cork to Roscoff. It's not like I am spending the time when I should be working weaving alluring fantasies involving a silk kimono about that moment when the holiday starts.

(I lied. I am literally counting down the days: 12. And I am totally fantasising.)As in:

She boarded the vessel trailed by her two adorable children, their nanny and their father. She was wearing an eye-catching, jewel-coloured silk kimono-type holiday outfit. After settling into the cabin and amusing everyone by making the beds that come out of the wall go out and in and out and in again a hundred times (do not knock it until you have tried it) she sashayed up onto one of the decks carry a little white handkerchief. The children were watching a magic show, below deck. Bringing a nanny on holiday had been an inspired decision. The Cork coastline receded into nothingness as the kimono silk fluttered sensuously in the breeze. She raised her hand then, waving the handkerchief in a fond adieu to Ireland. Goodbye, she whispered under her breath. Goodbye work and meetings and deadlines and emails and the desk she meant to tidy before she went but didn’t get around to. She breathed in the sea air and breathed it out again. Her holiday had begun.

(There is no nanny or kimono in real life but, as you can see, the mere thought of being off work for days on end is sending me a bit cracked).

Holidays usually sneak up on me beautifully, like a fiver found down the back of the sofa, which is in stark contrast to my mother who packs a week before and plans every detail meticulously. I don’t do anticipation.

I can usually be found shoving stuff in cases the morning we leave. Not this time. I am already making lists. I have a suitcase open and adding something to it every day is giving me a small thrill. I have a towering pile of holiday reading, which convinces me I am going to be “catching up on my reading” instead of trying to snatch 15 minutes between swimming and a wide variety of family holiday activities to read a chapter or on a good day two.

I find myself needing a holiday more than I’ve ever needed one. I’ve not been kind to myself and I’ve used the excuse of busyness and work for this unkindness. But when I am on holidays EVERYTHING is going to change across a selection of carefully worked out criteria. I am writing these criteria down so that when I come back I will have to report to you how I got on which might at least make me try to stick to these holiday experiments:

Bread Even though I am going to the Bread Capital of the World (France) I have decided I am going to see what it's like to live without bread-type foodstuffs. No croissants or their equivalents. No baguettes. (Cracked, see?) I just feel heavy with a lifetime of bread and it's not my friend at the moment. For the duration of the holiday I will say "non" to pain. (Bread in French is pain which I think explains a lot).

Wine Even though I am going to the Wine Capital of the World (France again), I am planning to dramatically reduce my wine consumption. Seriously. I want to take a couple of weeks off wine to see what that is like. The last time I did was summer 2008 and I got pregnant but let's just say I'll be taking precautions on that front. Many, many precautions.

Swimming I have tried (I mean really tried) but it turns out you can't go on a camping holiday in Brittany with two small children and avoid getting wet. So my plan is to embrace the water instead of feeling resentful of all the swimming tog-wearing and swimming-related things I will be doing. "I love swimming," I am going to say even when inside I'm drowning.

Phone I thought of not bringing my phone. But after five seconds of thinking about that I broke out in a rash and my heart started beating in a concerning irregular fashion. So I will bring the phone but I am going to force myself to put it on "airplane mode" most of the time. I am going to ban myself from reading emails. I am not going near irishtimes.com and as for twitter . . .

Fitness I am going for a long walk every day. Or a run. I am going to move my body and travel more than the length of myself at any opportunity. In conclusion: Twelve. Days.

I’m sure they’ll fly in. roisin@irishtimes.com