The Rest is History

The Swedish have fika. The Spanish have siesta. The Italians have riposo. Even the Japanese have inemuri, and a quick glance through different cultures would seem to suggest that the Japanese practically invented the work ethic. So why the hell are they resting, even if it is at their desk?

That last one is interesting. Inemuri is the art of taking a nap wherever you happen to be: on the bus or train, at your desk at work or school, or in a busy shopping centre. The notable thing about inemuri is that many employers and schools encourage it. Having a quick nap is interpreted as a sign that you have been working hard, and are having a quick rest to improve your productivity. In a society where “death through overwork” justifies its own word in the dictionary, taking an impromptu nap is viewed as a good thing.

At some risk of a trite comparison, is the Northern European/Western equivalent really “Work hard, play hard”? Rest is for wimps, no pain no gain, I’ll sleep when I’m dead and – the viral phrase to end all viral phrases – “living my best life everyday”. Are you living your best life every day? Good for you. I’m having a perfectly average day, and I’m not afraid to tell people.

I’m on holiday, and here’s my rundown of instagrammable moments so far today:

• I got up, because my wife was snoring so I couldn’t have a lie in without throttling her first. Affectionately, of course.
• I went for a stroll, and had to stop for an unscheduled bathroom break behind a tree. There were flies everywhere, so this was fraught with danger.
• I arranged a boules tournament for my family. Only the boules had all cracked in the heat, so kept dribbling water all over us.
• Everyone was too hot and bothered to have fun anyway.
• We all went indoors again. It was hot, but not quite as hot as outside.
• I hung up some washing on a communal washing line.
• I spent a large amount of time on the toilet, because my stomach is allergic to hot weather.
• I explained to my children that the red marks on my legs are dry patches caused by eczema and psoriasis. Because my skin is allergic to hot weather.
• I kept sweating sun cream into my eyes, because my internal thermometer- and the rest of my body – is allergic to hot weather.
• I swam inelegantly in a pool. Not a fancy pool though. A modest sized pool with cloudy-looking water.
• I sat down and wrote this.

At this point you might be wondering why I’ve bothered travelling somewhere hot if I’m allergic to hot weather. Well, dear reader, the simple answer is that my body is even more allergic to cold and damp weather than to hot weather. Then the fun really begins.

What I really need to do is rest. Have a sleep. Lie down and read a book. Eat some cheese, safe in the knowledge that I’m sweating it out of every pore anyway so won’t put on any more weight. Play a few games of Top Trumps with daughter number two. Watch an episode of Stranger Things on my IPad.

But that would be kind. That would be showing self love, compassion, and concern for my well-being. Instead, my brain is silently judging me, offering such helpful thoughts as “did you really come on holiday to do nothing? You do enough of that at home!” and the like. Because my middle class, Methodist brain doesn’t use the word “rest”. It doesn’t recognise the phrase “self compassion”. It doesn’t do “siestas” or “riposo”, not even a little bit of “inemuri”. Resting, recharging the batteries is something which, even after 11 or so years of chronic illness, my brain insists on describing as “doing nothing”.

So today I mostly did nothing. I would have posted an “unfiltered” selfie to show you all that I’m living my best life, but I don’t have a spare couple of hours to shower, apply makeup, rearrange the entire holiday apartment and set the lighting adequately to take a “spontaneous” photo. And besides, I’ve got to drive to the Hypermarché to buy a new set of boules.

It’s all good though. The car has air conditioning. And the Hypermarché is like a giant walk-in fridge. So I really will be living my best life.