I’m told that going on holiday ranks amongst life’s top ten stressful events. Yes, that choking, stifling panic that sets in affects millions of us as the big departure day approaches. In my case, with three weeks between a wet week sailing in Scottish waters and a damp week walking in the Lake District, I suppose I should know. Indeed it probably manifested itself with “blog-block” and hence the paucity of entries here last month. However if you did suffer from stress as you prepared for your annual vacation remember that it still ranks below moving home or child-birth and doesn’t even begin to compare with divorce which occupies one of the highest rankings.
Was there ever a time when human life was stress-free? I guess not. Whilst stone-age hunter gatherers may not have had blogs to write or divorce to contend with, the fear of being clubbed over the head and dragged across the plain by one’s hair must have loomed large; that and being trampled by a woolly mammoth.
Was there ever a time when human life was stress-free? I guess not. Whilst stone-age hunter gatherers may not have had blogs to write or divorce to contend with, the fear of being clubbed over the head and dragged across the plain by one’s hair must have loomed large; that and being trampled by a woolly mammoth.
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