I need a fuckin' holiday...

I've had enough of work, builders, traffic, insomnia, computers, barking dogs and any other stress you can think of. As it is, I've developed a rash, not unsimilar to a children's affliction called "Prickly Heat" (another good Scots term for you, Lee) and have a rash down both arms and legs that makes me look like a goddamn prickly pear (hence the name, I suppose). Whether it's from stress or an allergy to cement and plaster dust, I don't know, but it itches like fuck!! I need to get out into the fresh air and do some vegetating, fishing, reading, listening to music and much swilling of Captain Morgan (dark rum, of course) and Coke. I need to not worry about what my diary looks like for the coming weeks cos some arsehole is trying to squeeze another fucking meeting into it. The only proposal I want to hear of is one in which the decision of "which pub do we drink in today" appears. The last time I had any real time off was last May last year, when my daughter and Cuzzin Ross came out to visit. Now that was a great chilling out time!! It's time to put in for some leave. We've already made up our minds to go down to Plettenberg Bay on the Cape south-east coast. How long is debatable, but friends of ours have a place there and have said we can have it for as long as we like. Needless to say, I'll have to do the world's highest bungee jump (again), do some diving and snorkeling, fly fishing and all the other things I mentioned previously. Watch this space for the dates...right now, I've got to be in a teleconference call with the States....{sigh}...