It's like that sinking feeling brought on by your obnoxious alarm buzzing you out of a deep sleep projected over a time frame of weeks. Whilst on holiday your body and mind achieves a state of blissful peace and relaxation motivated by not having to be anywhere at any particular time for any particular person, and then EENT EENT EENT the alarm goes off and you're back at work.
At the moment I'm having a difficult time consolidating that feeling with the fact that I'm still on the other side of the world.
Short story long, I've started working.
I guess you could apply the questionably oxymoronic term "working holiday" - but I don't like it.
In all honesty there is some kind of strange comfort in working everyday. It helps me feel settled and as though I am establishing a new home. It's like some sort of sociological Stockholm Syndrome, I've grown so attached to the routine of getting up, going to work, and being accountable to some form of chain-of-command that the absence of it can be a little unsettling.
Work is good. I've only done two days so far but it's nice to be out amongst it, doing something productive; and all-in-all something positive.
I've taught a Year 5 class in a school in Cheam, and today was a Year 2 class in Surbiton. Supply is a bit tough as you have to start over nearly everyday, learning student's names and classroom rules and procedures. But on the plus side I rarely have to plan a lesson, just teach what the classroom teacher has prepared.
It's going to be a good two years.