My husband drew the line when I mentioned the shamanic sacrifice. I’m not a total sadist, but after 10 days in a turbo-charged immersion of Indonesian culture, pencilling in a chicken-slaying divination ceremony seemed perfectly normal. Clearly, I had reached peak Gap Week.
For the uninitiated, a gap week is longer and more restorative than the self-care day, brief enough to sandwich somewhere in my (rapidly diminishing) annual leave and the school holidays. It has plenty of Live, Laugh, Love photo ops (‘great for the socials!’) but in short, less-irritating-for-everyone-else bursts.
