I’m going to quaint Paternoster on the Weskus for a breakaway weekend, and very excited I am about it too. The pantie bar at the hotel, that little fish place on the beach that I promised my friends I would check out, it’s all waiting to be explored.

This is ostensibly a getaway with my family, but who hasn’t squeezed in a little pleasurable work into some downtime? I know that I’m not one to shirk. So what does it entail then, going on a working weekend as a blogger? It  means that I am free to indulge my quirks and write them off as business expenses. Always one to do a double take and ostrich neck at a badly lettered sign or butchered apostrophe,  I am now fully entitled to my righteous anger. It is, after all, work-adjacent. I am no longer a mere a grammar Nazi, two unrelated participles away from eternal pearl-clutching, I am a blogger, and the world needs to be made aware.

So watch out for me, I’ll be the one recoiling in horror at the “Caffe Late”  and the “Tuesday Special’s!”, too indignant to order, and then too busy writing a review in my head to enjoy my meal. But if I do manage to look around me and actually take in the Paternoster vibe, I promise to tell you all about it.

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