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Adventure! Romance! Misc! This book is none of these things, and less!

Semi-permanent drunk Melissa just wants to drink neat gin from her Daniel O’Donnell mug and avoid being promoted at work. She doesn’t have a boyfriend or any hopes and dreams and she likes being miserable. Her flatmate Joanne makes a living as an “online lightworker” by aligning people’s wood meridians. She does have a boyfriend – a poet named Fax who thinks he can boil eggs with his mind.

And together they are… going on holiday to a new age festival.

In amongst the spoon carving, vowel free poetry and too many vegans, Melissa tries to survive being serenaded with lutes and accidentally triggering people by eating Pringles.

Cover art by the wonderful Steve Horsley (@Horsenburger)

CH cover small

Melissa can’t find her Daniel O’Donnell mug…

The next few minutes are spent yelling incomprehensibly at each other, until I say “Right that’s it, I’m going to look in your room. You’ve got him and I’m going to rescue him!”

“No! You’re not allowed in my room! It’s private!”





“I did a piss in it. I was really mad at you the other day so I pissed in your Daniel O’Donnell mug. Happy now?”

I immediately assume the manner of a parent that’s ‘not angry, just disappointed’. “Is there piss in it now?”

“No, what do you think I am? I cleaned it but it still smells a bit of piss.”

Going on holiday…

Joanne has booked us seats on a female-only minibus. She occasionally does things with a group called ‘Goddess Empowerment’. This group has paid for the minibus, and it stinks of lavender and sweat.

It’s OK, I’m prepared for being trapped in a metal box with a dozen people who are the opposite of me. Since I’m technically going on holiday, I’ve packed exotic booze: ouzo and pernod. Sadly these are in my suitcase, so I’ll have to make do with one of the gin miniatures that are clinking in my handbag.

A group of women start singing a song about mountains being female. I could bear this if it weren’t for them all lifting their arms for the chorus. Every time they get to the chorus I hold my breath and pray the bus will crash.

What are we doing this morning?

“Fax and I thought we’d have superfood smoothies on the way to the spoon carving. You’re coming with us right?”

I sit down without answering. If I say no they’ll think I’m being difficult on purpose. If I say yes I’ll have to go do spoon carving.

I get a handful of Freddos from my stash and eat them in the tent. When I get back out, Joanne hands me a leaflet featuring a clipart of some leaves, and a list of today’s ‘events’.

Highlights of the list:

“… a seven piece explosion fusing ukulele and Casio keyboard functions”

“Donna X. Lowry – vowel free poetry”

“Be at one with your microbiology (includes free dirt)”

“40 minutes of rhythmic poetry dealing with the issue of racism in DIY wholesalers”

I’m dismayed to see there’s nothing listed under ‘sit there and drink yourself into a mild stupor’. I guess I’ll go to the spoon carving.

Nudist housemates…

They’ve decided to become nudists for a bit. You know, just in case I’m not taking the thought of caving my own face in with the iron seriously enough.

They didn’t tell me they were going to do this, I only found out when I walked into the living room yesterday morning and found Fax saluting the sun.

“Namaste!” he boomed at me. I’d only been awake 20 minutes, and wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t a dream. I stood there like a fucking rabbit in some headlights, waiting for this to not be happening. As much as I tried not to look, I kept looking.

Just when my instincts were about to kick in and I was about to throw something at Fax’s horrible naked bollocks, Joanne bounced into the room. Literally.

“Mel, we need to leave all the curtains and all the windows open today because we need to get as much natural light as possible.”

“We’re doing a cleansing,” said Fax.

There was nowhere in the room I could look without seeing naked body parts. I put my hands over my eyes.

“God that’s so childish” snapped Joanne. “It’s perfectly natural. We’ve been reading a book called ‘Cleansing The Inner Soul With Spirit Light’. The author channelled the Archangel Michael.”

Cooking an egg with Reiki…

We sit in silence while Fax holds an egg. Of all the things in the world we could be doing right now, we’re choosing to sit in silence watching Fax hold an egg.

He starts doing some disturbing humming. It occurs to me that I’m spending a lot of time trying not to laugh recently. I suppose that’s a step up from wishing I was dead.


Maybe if I try really hard, I can train myself to laugh out of my arse so he won’t notice.

It’s been about 6 or 7 minutes now. He stops humming. “Ta da!”

He’s still just sitting holding the egg. The egg hasn’t changed.

“It’s done now I think.”

“Joanne gets in for a closer look. “Wow really?”

“Yes I think so. It’s had a lot of energy. The ions in it have definitely changed.”

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