Bob's a clever man. Sir Bob to you and me, I suppose. He has a kind of articulacy that I really admire: to be able to speak as if in rehearsed speeches. He makes cogent sense, whereas I bumble around trying to find my way to maybe beginning to think of the, er, point, which may be over there, or perhaps over here, but let's go together and see.
But Bob don't like Mondays. And I am in some concorde with him there. Getting up early, especially at this time of year is grim. The extra toothpaste because last night was still the weekend and so that bottle of red just had to be finished (for the bin men in the morning). The feeling that after the daily grind there is a load for the machine: one to empty and one to start, because it's Monday and there is no excuse for not doing the chores on a Monday. Yesterday, oh yesterday was different. Yesterday it was take the kids out, pub lunch maybe, the papers (it's your duty to read them cover to cover, and then check the insides of your eyelids for any signs of lasting damage - takes a good hour to go over them carefully), perhaps a bit of extra effort for supper, and then the cork comes out of the bottle to celebrate the end of the weekend, and then bed, and a bit of something exciting and loving if you're lucky, and then your zinc levels drop and drop and drop and drop until IT"S MONDAY MORNING LOSER! WAKEY WAKEY WAKEY!
Why can't alarm clock radios be gentle? My Sony is really alarming. I swear my palpitations are due to it's complete lack of subtlety. GET UP YOU LAZY FAT ... my hand reaches the off button just in time. Or it could be John Humphrys' fault.
So, yes Bob, Mondays are pretty crap. But Wednesdays are worse. Because on Wednesdays every week I have to give my boy to his Mum for two days, and every Wednesday a little bit more of me dies. And you know what Bob, it never gets any easier. After four years, I wonder if there is enough of me left alive to have little bit more die off next Wednesday and next and next and next.
But there always is. Like a new parent who is so tired they can't function, but always do becasue they have to, so I regenerate just enough to be able to let it die again in a week.
That's why Wednesdays are worse than Mondays Bob, that's why.
