If you have stumbled across my blog and are thinking “Day 3 of what?), have a quick read of this explanation:

I have set myself a challenge and need your help, (please).

I woke up this morning shiting myself. What the bloody hell have you done Liz? Talk about putting pressure on yourself. Writing everyday was hard enough but putting it out there for the world to see – nutter!

Hey ho, me and my decisions. I am still excited to see where this takes me, as well as terrified.

Not only was I shitting myself this morning, I was also a little hungover. Last night, Murray, my husband, Holly, my step daughter and I went out to dinner. The table was booked for 7pm so we left early to go to a local bar first, only to find it was shut. We had forgotten it was a bank holiday so most places on the island were closed. We had also forgotten we were going out to dinner. Fotunately, they sent us an email reminder. We thought it was tonight. Funny isn’t it when you are on holiday that your mind turns to mush and you have no idea what day it is. Every day is a wekend, yay!

On arrival to the restaurant, very early that is, we were greeted by less than friendly reception staff. I started to explain why we were early, they stopped me dead and said, “You’re table is ready.” “Oh,” I thought, “no time for chit chat then, sorry to have inconvenienced you.” Both ladies had expressionless faces and stood so rigid I thought perhaps they had both been afflicted with poles up their arses. I felt like saying, “Don’t worry about dinner, it’s clearly just our money you’re after, here just take my credit card and be done with it.” I thought better of it.

Which was the sensible option. We went on to have a delicious meal, tuna tartare and fillet steak, cooked beautifully. Accompanied by some decadent red wine, Murray is a bit of a wine connoisseur. Originally, we had planned on sitting on the roof top terrace for an after dinner whisky but decided against it because a) it was raining, b) we didn’t want to give them any more of our money and c) we had whisky back at the villa, for free, well not entirely, of course, we had paid for it at the airport. We weren’t planning on drinking all the owners spirits. Although that’s not a bad idea.

Back at home, I love how we adopt that expression when we are on holiday, clearly it is not our home and we have only been here for a week but it feels welcoming and reassuring so it feels right to call it home. We had a glass of wine first as it was only 8.30pm, last of the dirty stop outs, and we still had enough sense to not start the whisky at that stage. We were sat on the decking, listening to music, Cold Play, Death and all of his Friends. We were all jigging about, looked like we were having heart attacks but we were enjoying ourselves. Saying how much we loved the instrumental building in intensity with the final crescendo. At that exact moment the heavens opened and the downpour was sensational. We decided that who ever lives upstairs was in agreement with us. 

Then, for some absurd reason we decided to start playing songs that made us cry. Who chooses to do that (secretly, I bet you do). So there we are, all howling, priceless, what muppets. We all felt much better after that and put some happy tunes on. Funny isn’t it how cryning makes you feel so much better. Like your stresses and strains have left you. Albeit temporarily, until you see your reflection in the mirror that is and you notice your eyes are all red and blotchy and your face has swollen to the size of a footaball, which makes you start all over again. Aside from that, it’s great.

I am not known for crying, during my acting training this was the thing I struggled with most, it took 8 months to master it. All thanks to my amazing teachers in LA, Dianne and Lorrie Hull. I was elated, I had done it. Opened the flood gates that is. Bloody hell, I started crying at everything. I remember walking into Murray’s office and saying to him and Clarky, his office manager, I hate calling her that as she has worked for Murray for twenty years, is one of my best friends and is part of the family but at the end of the day that is her job tite. Where was I? Oh yes, I walked into the office having come through from the kitchen, where I had been bawling my eyes out, and announced “This bloody acting, I can’t stop crying” If only I had known what was coming. At that time, I thought I was crying a lot but then I became clinically depressed, oh dear, even Noahs ark wasn’t going to stop me from drowning.

If you would like to join me on this journey, please like, subscribe and comment. If you make a comment, please explain what it was that made you feel that way.

Thanks, Liz

For anyone reading my posts who has a story in them they are struggling to tell. I would recommend getting Anne Lamott’s book ‘Bird by Bird’. It has inspired me to create this challenge and is full of great knowledge and insight. She also has a wonderful sense of humour and writing style.

If you would like to buy ‘Bird by Bird’, please feel free to use my Amazon associate link: https://amzn.to/47Pdkx7