Atlanta Was Class. The Van Was Better.

Forty Hours Awake and Counting

I’ve been away.

Not “weekend in Donegal” away. Properly away. Atlanta, Georgia, filming for work, meeting people I usually only exist alongside in a Slack channel, and doing my best impression of someone who handles long-haul flights like a functional adult.

I do not.

Here’s the thing about AuDHD that doesn’t make the inspirational Instagram posts. It’s not just the focus stuff or the hyper-fixation or the bit where you accidentally redesign your entire website at midnight instead of sleeping. It’s the control thing. New environments. New beds. New everything. By the time I landed and got to my hotel room on day one, I’d been awake for nearly 40 hours. My brain, bless it, had absolutely no intention of stopping. Sleep was theoretical. The week was a blur of tiredness and genuine excitement, which is a strange combination to sustain for seven days across a five hour time difference.

I loved every minute of it. I also looked like a haunted scarecrow by Thursday.

Axes, Interviews, and Immaculate Vibes

The work was brilliant. Filming, interviews, training content, stock footage. The kind of creative stuff that reminds you why you do the job in the first place. I even had a crack at axe throwing, which it turns out I’m actually decent at. Sadly it took me two rounds to find my rhythm, by which time the rest of the group had already written off any chance of winning. Contribution: minimal. Vibes: immaculate.

Then it was over, and I got on a plane, and somewhere over the Atlantic I remembered what was waiting for me.

The van. Milo. Lucky. Mrs. M.

In that order. Don’t tell her.

Springwell, Portrush, and the Slow Decompression

The first stop back was Springwell Forest Park, just to decompress. No agenda. No filming. Just the trees, the dogs losing their minds at every smell they’d missed for a week, and the very specific kind of quiet that only exists when you’re parked up somewhere green with a brew on.

That one night did more for me than any amount of hotel beds.

We rolled into Portrush (which I’ve never actually wrote a park-up piece on yet) after that, caught a Monday night at the Kiwi Bar, which I’d highly recommend if you’re in the area on a Monday specifically. They do 50% off food and it’s proper decent grub.

Dinosaurs, 2p Machines, and Questionable Chips

Tuesday back to the house. Reuben has a new word. Dinosaur. He’s also mastered fake snoring, which he performs while running around the living room at full speed. I don’t know what the developmental milestone chart says about that but it seems advanced.

Friday evening, back to Portrush with Gemma and Dylan, Reuben in tow, chips that were fine at best, and Mrs. M. somehow making a single pound coin last over an hour on the 2p machines. She is an artist.

What’s Next

It’s Saturday now. We’ve had a good week. The kind that sneaks up on you.

Next week we’re Amsterdam-bound. More filming, more interviews, more time with colleagues who usually only exist as profile pictures. Mrs. M. decided she wasn’t sitting this one out after Atlanta, which is fair enough. She booked the time off herself before I’d finished the sentence.

The van stays home for that one. Which means I’ll spend the whole trip quietly looking forward to getting back to it.

Some things don’t change.