It's May, we've had three sunny day's, and I've handed my notice in at my two jobs in public relations, in order to get covered in fish guts on the boats again this summer.
I did try to be career-conscious for a while there, but I couldn't resist the temptation of that bobbing island of Summer sun and camaraderie that is The Four Brothers fishing boat on Saundersfoot harbour.
There's loads of time to be a career woman. I have opportunities not to be missed at this time in my life. I'm twenty two, with oodles of aspirations but no hurry to be ambitious about them yet. I've met a nice man who happens to live in one of the most glorious places on this earth and I'd be an absolute spanner not to make the most of it.
So that's that, my stint at offices and business jargon, bum licking and irritating colleagues, excel and press releases is, for now anyway, over. It's bloody brilliant.
I have to be fair here and say that I was extremely lucky in that I had two really lovely bosses who were supportive, attentive and most importantly, understanding of my decision to leave.
The summer is drawing near with opportunity in the passenger seat. It leaves me with an anxious-excited cocktail in my stomach. It makes me look at myself and think: "shit! you're doing this you crazy bitch".
I've made progress in myself - I've become less fiercely independent and more comfortable with handing either the map or the steering wheel over to someone else.
Not that it doesn't come with the obligatory panic and self questioning, but I think if you hand your little heart over to someone, it's always going to bring that element of pant-soiling fear with it.
I'm so looking forward to being on the boat everyday, soaking up the sun and watching the seals and porpoise make their appearances in the water below.
I'm less looking forward to long hours, shit pay, stinking of fish - which is by the way, incredibly hard to get rid of for when I want to switch from stinky fisher-woman to sexy, sultry girlfriend-goddess-, mentally challenged tourists and their spawn, my skippers repetitive jokes, the general chaos and the obligatory hooks in arms, legs, breasts and cheeks from some little twat lurching his fishing-rod around in fear when a fish hooks on (THAT IS WHY YOU HAVE COME FISHING YOU ABOMINABLE LITTLE TURD).
I vow to this year not take on the fishermans curse of spending all day flogging my guts out for my percentage only to spunk it up the wall on drinks that evening. I will save like a good girl.
This year should be a little easier as I went out most nights last year in order to increase my chances of "bumping into" the man I was interested in. It paid off mind, he fell down a flight of concrete steps and was easily lure-able. Carrying a dead weight up the beach to my den was pretty hard work though.
This summer I will work and work and save and save and surf and surf and maybe have a few cheeky beers to reward myself for all my hard work.
And after all that's done I'll be off. This county is beautiful, but my god it can be suffocating. It often feels like treading water here: a sense of panic and self awareness, relentlessly making you kick your little legs faster in order to avoid drowning in its cliques and subtle confrontations.
That's all for now
Jojo xxx
No comments:
Post a Comment