Shit head

I don't know how to explain the past week or so. Perhaps because it has been in many ways a non event - a nothingness that disappears as quickly as it came. It's hard to say exactly what has caused it, this temporary suffocation of life, of the soul. I suppose it's likely to have been a combination of things, some of which I can put my finger on, while the rest is blowing around in the wind. The weather forecast told us that visibility would be excellent below the clouds, but looking out the window (and by my reckoning) that would mean tunnelling at least a few meters underground in order to see. But here's the thing (on a cheerful note), just because you know why you're feeling a certain way - it doesn't stop you feeling like that. You can rationalise many things, but most of the time it doesn't matter a damn bit either way.

Of course, there has actually been a lot going on here, and certainly very little of it has been doom and gloom. As far as I'm concerned, once you've massacred the scrambled egg at breakfast, the day isn't going to get any worse. I don't know what caused me to lose focus - making it is something I view as an art form. Anyway. After that I stopped worrying about a whole heap of stuff, even the disorganised stacking of the dishwasher trays.  

I'd like to say that I put a brave face on it, and put aside the more calamitous thoughts until I could wallow in them, alone. Not that it's a requirement to act 'normal', not that there's anything wrong with feeling that way. What is important though is to talk about it, however briefly, however ridiculous the conversation turns out (to be expected with Rachel - thanks!). I've said before, and will say many times again, how great the people are that I work with, and how great it is to meet all the different people that come through the hostel. One evening after work I played shit head until 11pm with an Israeli family living in London. The games got more and more animated, and when the two mums and their two daughters all started talking in Hebrew I protested loudly that they were all conspiring against me (in reality I just had really bad cards). I think we would have finished much earlier, had I not been insistent on continuing playing until I won. It was a lot of fun. 

Around the same time, a lovely lady called Sarah was staying at the hostel with her family. On the morning she came to check out and hand in their room key, she suddenly asked me, "are you the one who writes the blog?" I figured it was too late by then to cover up my name badge and deny all knowledge, so I lamely responded, erm yeh. I also hastily introduced her to Rachel, figuring she would want to talk to someone more interesting (one of the blog stars). I was curious though to know how she found out about it, and was more than amused when she told me that she had searched for 'Eskdale info' on Twitter and my blog was the only thing that had come up. I'm not entirely sure how informative it actually is - it doesn't contain a lot of the usual touristy things. It can't be too bad, though. Someone has read it, and still decided to visit anyway.