Vacations are largely wasted on me. I hate strange beds, become annoyed by eating out too often, get tired too quickly, and really would just rather be writing. My idea of a lovely holiday is one in which I just move somewhere for a month or two, so I can have all the fun of a new supermarket and funny potato chip flavors with none of the hassle of touring.
Nevertheless, I vacation. In this case, we went to Scotland to see Husband’s family.
Husband’s family likes to walk, as a hobby. I am not a great walker. Walks for me are the fifteen minutes I spend thinking of what comes next in my book. Once I’ve thought of it, I want to go write it down, not keep moving.
(I’m white, twenty-something, and well educated. I should adore travel! I don’t. I’m aware of the irony.)
To distract myself from my oodles of writing plans, I took photos. And so I present: “Scotland, in photographs of weird crap I find interesting.”
And that’s it! Do these photos thrill and excite you?
Okay, okay, if pressed I’ll admit that I had a good time, even if my lack of writing did begin to drive me slightly insane by the end. Now I’m back and writing and all’s well that ends well, right?