The Fine Art of Doing Sod All

I’ve finished my third brew of the morning and I’m considering making another one. It’s a bank holiday. We have a grand plan.

Bank holiday weekends come with an automatic allocation of guilt. It’s a long weekend. An opportunity to do lots of things. Go to lots of places, attend artisanal festivals, that type of thing.

Me? I want to make a brew and stare at the fence.

Here’s how it works. Friday arrives, and the day drags on. But the evening arrives, and the planning discussions start.

Let’s go to that place. Let’s go to the other place. We’ll go for a meal. See relatives…

None of it happens.

And I’m fine with that. I’ve reached an age where doing sod all works for me. The guilt can do one. I used to feel it. But it’s a chance to kick back and do nothing. Perfect.

I remember one bank holiday a few years back—we had the mad idea of a trip to Cornwall. Mad because it’s a lot of miles to get there. By the time we arrived, we walked through the streets of St Ives like zombies.

We spent two days racing from place to place, trying to tick off the spots we wanted to see. By the time we arrived home in Coventry, we were exhausted. And needed another holiday.

Another time, years ago, when I ran for fun, I did an ultramarathon. A 24-hour event where you run as far as you can in 24 hours. What a great experience. I went to work on Tuesday a complete wreck, soles hanging off because of blisters.

I also remember spending bank holidays doing DIY. Painting, wallpapering, gardening… as before, Tuesday morning rolled in and I’d heave a sigh of relief. Back to work for a break.

One infamous bank holiday, I hung a new living room door. After a flurry of measuring, jamming a door in the car, and more measuring, I set about the task.

I don’t know if it was my measuring or an awkward doorway, but what should have been an hour of work took all day. I filled the living room with sawdust and broke myself sawing the damn door to make it fit.

Let’s not forget the return to work after a bank holiday.

Nightmare. The week becomes about squashing five days into four. It’s doomed to fail from the beginning.

You jump between tasks at a furious rate. Work late on at least two of the days to “catch up”. When the next weekend arrives, exhaustion makes you collapse in a disorganised heap.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. We can use bank holidays to do the things I’ve mentioned. That’s the fun of them. That extra day off work. Although back in 1871 when Sir John Lubbock introduced them, he intended them to allow financial institutions to close in a legal sense and without penalty.

But for me, they’re a chance to relax and do sod all. There is a fine art to doing nothing. A learned technique. It takes years of practice to get it right.

Right, it’s a bank holiday, so I’m going to make a brew. And resume staring at the fence.