Over indulgence

I’m on my second glass of wine when the tiredness hits me. I’m on my way home, and it’s been intense. 10 shows in two days at the Edinburgh Fringe, and we still had time to eat, and shop. But now, I’m shattered.

As the train travels very slowly towards York, I’m too tired to even think about what I’ve seen. The time to assimilate it all will come later. At the moment, I’m in a happy haze of cultural overload. I sit and doze, and random images from things I’ve seen, and phrases I’ve heard run through my mind. As I disembark at the station, I drag my case behind me. It bumps noisily down the steps as I can’t be bothered to pick it up. I murmur an incoherent farewell to two of my fellow culture vultures, and stumble into a taxi.

Home brings reality, post lies on the mat, and the cats are demanding food. Lovely as it is to be home, I want to remain in the world where I can live like this for more than just a couple of days in August.