“JUST get through the day,” I used to tell my staff. “If you get to the end of it without handing in your notice, you’ll have done OK.”

Friday was my test. My son was back at school. Everything I could do from home, I’d done. I couldn’t put it off any longer and there was an important meeting I needed to attend. I gritted my teeth, braved the new rail franchise holder (trains just as crowded…) and told myself what I tell my team.

When I’m on holiday, things are different. For a start my pace of life changes. Without the need to get ready for work or school, getting up is a lot easier. Sure my internal alarm clock seems to go off at the same time whether I’m at work or on holiday, but without the imperative to leap out of bed to get my son ready for school and myself ready for work, getting up is a much more relaxed affair.

Taking a break from routine gives me a different perspective on life and a chance to try different things. Meals become more leisurely – I tried different recipes, with mixed success: Chicken Korma and home-made Naan bread got the thumbs up but I’ve been threatened with a call to Childline if I serve liver and bacon again. When my son’s friends came round we were able to do things together rather than me having to get on with chores. I discovered some new dog walks… But more importantly, the things that worried me at work and would sometimes keep me awake at night, were swallowed in a comforting mist that grew more dense as time went on.

Hence my anxiety about returning to work. I dreaded logging on. A few days before I was due to return, the mist lifted and I discovered to my horror that work complications had grown considerably larger in my absence.

However, once I’d got to work, I actually enjoyed it. I know I’m very lucky doing a job I like with a great team in a lovely environment and with the flexibly to strike the sort of work/life balance I’ve been hankering after for years. As is often the case, the reality wasn’t as bad as the anticipation; being back at work was much more agreeable than I’d expected.

The change of perspective that Romsey rapids, Danebury Hill Fort, Hause and Wirth, chicken Korma and even liver and bacon gave me meant that the things that had assumed such troublesome proportions in my mind were, on re-inspection, much more manageable than I’d imagined.

The nicest thing about going away is coming home – even if the journey has all been in your mind.