Please, just one more day...

Wishing this were my office for just one more day...

What I'm about to write is going to come across as very much a first-world problem, a middle-class indulgence if you will, but that's just how I feel right now. I'm sitting here in my room on a chilly Sunday in Match, a blanket wrapped around me to stave off the omnipresent chill, contemplating my impending return to civilian life.

OK, 'civilian' may be a bit strong - I've been in Cuba for two weeks, not on army manoeuvres, but that's the word that fits the feeling of getting back to normal life after a holiday.

For me, a holiday begins about a week before I actually take off, not just with packing and planning, but at work too; whenever anyone approaches you with a task, you look up with a face of joy thinly veiled with regret, that you won't be able to take on the task as you'll be on annual leave. A couple of days before you go, you just want to stick a note on your forehead: "Don't ask me - going on holiday". From that moment on, you're well and truly in the Holiday Bubble, an invisible force which, unfortunately, only you can feel. Life goes on for everyone else as normal, and yet, you feel like you should have a neon sign above your head, reminded everyone of your impending travels.

Wishing this was my everyday commute...

Your first day back in the office, everyone greets you, comments on your tan, asks the pre-requisite questions about your holiday. And then it's heads down and back to work as usual, as you crawl through your backlog of emails, wondering why no-one paid any attention to your Out Of Office, your tan fading before your eyes under the harsh strip-lighting. Halfway through the morning, someone asks you a question. 'Yes!', you think. 'This is my chance!'

"I don't know", you reply sweetly, "I was on holiday."

"Oh yeah, right", your colleague mumbles, and you wait. You wait for your chance to tell them again how blue the sea was, how luxurious the hotel, how strong the cocktails. You're wondering which anecdote to start with, but they've already bumbled off to ask Sue from accounts the same question they've just asked you, because Sue knows everything.

Just like that, your holiday is over. The bubble is burst. It's as if it never happened at all.

*Insert your own pithy caption about watching the sun set on your holiday*

That's where I am right about now. Thankfully I'm still ensconced cosily in the Holiday Bubble, but I know that soon, I've got to reunite myself with the paraphernalia that oils the cogs of day-to-day life. I've got to get my Oyster Card and diary out of the drawer I eagerly cast them into a couple of weeks ago. Was it really only two weeks ago? I'll have to set my alarm for 6.30am and be back on the 8.14am train. I'll jostle my way through the City, naively hoping the suits and umbrellas of its streets will go just a little gentle on me as it's my first day back, while really knowing that it's just another day for everyone else.

But for now, my notebook, my camera and my mind are full of Cuba, so please let me wallow in my bubble a little longer.