On your Marks

Pondering my latest pivot table from yet another soulless hotel room, I called a friend to apologise for another birthday celebration that I wouldn't be attending. One too many 3am finishes writing dreary reports had left me with permanent bags under my eyes, horrible skin, and drained of the personality I once knew and loved. Never one to accept "second best", "average" or "mediocre" as words with any place in my life of course this was partly my own doing, however, after seven years it had finally dawned on me that perhaps this career and I should part company, and I realised nothing was going to change unless I made it happen.

That's not to say that I didn't have a few laughs along the way, and I complemented my fabulous group of friends* with some great new additions, so nowadays the boundaries between these different groups of friends* are wonderfully blurred (you know who you are!) Even stuffing envelopes with letters to unsecured creditors in Sheffield had its moments (or were we a little high on the unimaginatively named and suspicious tasting "Himalayan pizza", from the Himalayan Restaurant, of course) as did reading some of the responses to those letters, in particular from the Czech lady who wrote to inform us that unfortunately her husband "had met with a hard heavy head incident" and as such would not be able to respond to our letter for some time. I hope the poor chap recovered. The prize for the most amusing moment (in a geeky accountant kind of way) has to go to the illustration below, which was handed to my friend Ben by a partner after a client meeting: turns out he had used his child's artwork to write his meeting notes on, which amused me and Ben for many happy afternoons afterwards (well if the highlight of your working life was "excel formula of the week" you'd find it funny too. I guess you had to be there).

Important meeting notes c.2005, from a partner who shall remain nameless

During those seven years I also learned a great deal from working with some extremely competent, dedicated people. I'm grateful for those experiences, and I am indeed a self-confessed workaholic so it wasn't all their fault that I was working myself into an early grave, it's just that the big four and I no longer had a shiny bright long-term future together.

Time to redress the balance in my life. As my friend Katy rightly pointed out, my interpretation thus far of that overused but highly disregarded phrase "work life balance" has been to work myself stupid for seven years then take a year off to recover. Now that's not quite how I intend to approach this newfound time in my life, but it's certainly high time I retreated from the insular world I created and thought about the one I'd prefer in future. I decided to trade the handbags and gladrags for a backpack and some slightly more functional attire and embark on a journey starting in Mexico where I shall be excavating that lost personality.......

(*It remains for me to thank these wonderful friends: you are responsible for keeping me sane until now, and I am eternally grateful).

Until one is committed there is hesitancy:
the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness.

Concerning all aspects of initiative and creation
there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which
kills countless ideas and splendid plans;

That the moment one definitely commits oneself
then Providence moves too.

All sorts of things occur to help one
That would never otherwise have occurred.

A whole stream of events issues from the decision
raising in one’s favour all manner of unforeseen
incidents and meetings and material assistance
which no man could have dreamt would have come his way.

Whatever you do or dream you can,
begin it.

Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.

Begin it now.

Already exhausted with the effort of carrying my overflowing backpack (haven't quite got the hang of travelling light yet), I fall into an inviting armchair at Starbucks to wait for my friend Katy who is accompanying me for two weeks in Mexico.

It hasn't quite been the leisurely wind-down I had in mind. True to form, even though I switched jobs for the last six months and had a little more time on my hands, I could not resist filling every minute with some kind of activity. When I described my weekend activities to my bemused Spanish teacher, Felix, he asked me when I would be spending time relaxing. "2011" I replied.

Inevitably, the day I finished work, some kind flu virus attacked my battered immune system and I found myself bed-ridden for the best part of a week, missing yet another birthday celebration (sorry Claire). Then the snow set in, and the airports were closed. Panic! This was not the laid back final week in the UK I had been looking forward to.

Being laid up in bed left me very little time to pack up my belongings, and a familiar feeling of exhaustion and grumpiness returned. Rubbish. Somehow I got it all boxed up and recruited some nice men to transport it to my storage unit (but not before realising that there was no way on earth all my crap was going to fit in the unit I hired back in September, and upgrading to one nearly twice the size).

But now the suits are folded away and the Louboutins packed up in their boxes, and as Katy arrives I realise that I am done, and ready to go! Thankfully Gatwick has now thawed out, and we head off to our glamorous airport hotel where we celebrate with beer, scampi and chips. D bloody beautiful. We are visited by Father Christmas during the night (thanks Lis) and open our presents before spending the rest of Christmas morning at the airport. Viva Mexico!

(Special thanks to British Airways, who ran out of turkey at about row 3, were unable to provide the inflight entertainment, and then appeared surprised that we turned to gin and red wine as an alternative).

We make it to Cancun: our hostel is not a complete fleapit and it's time to get the flip-flops out: hurrah! Unfortunately we have to abandon our stroll down the beach as it's blowing a sandstorm, and Cancun does not have much else appealing on offer (SDU team: you will be pleased to hear that I managed to avoid Senor Frog's and wet t-shirt contests).

After some pleasant days on Isla Mujeres (well pleasant-ish, it was mostly overcast: the sun tricked us by coming out for an hour or so, but by the time we'd parked ourselves on the sun loungers and opened the suncream it had disappeared, and we looked somewhat ridiculous laying there in trousers and raincoats so gave up) we arrive in Playa del Carmen and catch up with Simon, my friend from my Zurich days, for New Years Eve. Unfortunately some arsewipe makes off with my camera, which necessitates a trip to the tourist police (who don't speak any English, I mean really?! 90% of the tourists here are Americans!), a follow up trip to some other office where my report is typed up into Spanish, and a third stop elsewhere to get the sodding thing stamped. All in different parts of town, of course.

The rest of our time in Mexico goes very well (hopefully I have left the disasters back in 2010, and 2011 will indeed be the year of relaxation and an easy life.....)

Mexico highlights:
- Tulum beach: luscious lengths of white sand and crab burgers...mmm
- Diving and snorkelling in the cenotes amongst the stalagtites
- Meat feast at El Asadero, and cactus leaf
- fresh juice at our favourite breakfast spot opposite the bus station
- pelicans diving for fish at sunset
- riding bikes to the ruins at the beach
- Chichen Itza (now forever known to me as Chicken Itza thanks to the spell check)
- fajitas, burritos, enchiladas, tacos...still not really sure what the difference is
- tequilas at the local hacienda in Playa del Carmen, where we were not allowed to leave before polishing off 2 huge post-dinner shots (tequila served in 50ml glasses is surely not advisable?)
- very bad pool playing at the 307 bar in Tulum (thanks to Joe, Team Snorkel was triumphant)
- foot pedal toilet flushes in public facilities and plastic money that doesn't get wet or tear - why don't we have these things back home?

Tulum sunset

And another....

Gran Cenote, Tulum

Very poor pool playing at bar 307, Tulum

Chichen Itza (aka Chicken Itza) main pyramid

Skull wall at Chichen Itza

Katy testing her negotiation skills

Meat feast at El Asadero

The 7am tourist bus to Belize City is a rude awakening for me: the comfortable, spacious air-conditioned Mexican buses have been replaced by some rickety old thing where seats big enough for one are occupied by two. I am sharing with Crazy Artist Lady, who has some interesting tales but is rather a panicky traveller and decides I am her new best friend. Thankfully Ana and Damian rescue me once we get to the water taxi and on arrival on Caye Caulker I see that Crazy Artist Lady is talking to some unsuspecting locals so I make a quick getaway. Ana, Damian and I go out for lobster for dinner to celebrate. I've never sat on a swing to eat dinner before, but I am now a fan: we should have these at home.

Mmmm, lobster and Belikin

Caye Caulker

After a couple of pleasant days on Caye Caulker, which is the most relaxed place I have seen for some time, it's all aboard the Ragga King for a sailing trip down the longest barrier reef in the Western hemisphere to Placencia. Incredible dazzling turquoise water, beautiful marine life, deserted islands and lazy sunny days, plus a great bunch of new friends and a top quality crew (thanks Kevin, Ellis and Chris). Happy days of snorkelling, sunbathing, fishing (which I discover is not my new career), reggae and rum punch.

The Ragga King at sunset

Beer o'clock, Goffe Caye

Paradise comes with a price. My shoes and I embark on a 3 day trial separation period. This is particularly unpleasant when tiptoeing into the islands' toilet facilities, which have to be flushed with a bucket but apparently that's too much work for some. Urgh. Day 1 shower consists of a bucket of water over the head to rinse off the salt, and Day 2 isn't much better. Pitching the tents is a little tricky when the wind picks up: my tent buddy Vanessa and I go for a spot away from the flight path of any coconuts. Oh well, I guess I'm not in Kansas anymore.

Setting up camp on Goffe Caye