I know this better than most. And battle with it too. Every time I am overcome by fatigue, anxiety or the feeling that I'm doing too much, I resolve to take a step back, have some to myself, take stock.
I do that for about 24 hours, then metaphorically shake myself by the shoulders and commit to life at full pelt anew.
#YOLO an' all that.
Feral Beryl goes to Glastonbury. And not just for 4 nights either. Since I'm volunteering with the guys at Shelter, I'll be pulling pints, mixing drinks and eyeing up 19 year olds uncertainly, and crashing for 6 nights in the relatively salubrious Avalon Events camping area. With the cool kids.
The weekend after is St. Paul's carnival in Bristol; the greatest reggae roots, jerk filled, Red Stripe guzzling free festy of true colourful carni vibes this side of Jamaica. And this year I'm not on crutches! RESULT.
Then we begin the countdown to 3 festivals in 3 weekends. Secret Garden Party, Nozstock, Boomtown. A triple decker of dancing, all fresco nesting, facepaint and shenanigans. Oh and of course, more of the best music this feral blogger could hope to witness in a lifetime, let alone a little over fortnight.
All in all, over a third of my nights in the next 6 weeks will be spent outside. 35% just so we're clear.
I declare that should this social experiment - what exactly is 'too much' for one fun loving animal to handle? - prove conclusive such that Feral Beryl becomes 'dearly departed', I hereby leave all my worldly possessions to whosoever can prove their feral mettle in a contest of suitable ridiculousness to be determined by Bubble Butt. For as his papa used to say, "Hey if it feels good, do it."
I'll keep you posted.