Sunday was never particularly my favourite day of the week.
As a kid, it meant dressing up in my ‘Sunday best’ and being dragged off to Mass. Even at that age, I was having my doubts about the whole circus, and would have much preferred to be out heaving rocks at other kids, or some other healthy pursuit.
As I grew older, I rebelled on the Mass business, but then Sundays became the day to suffer the Saturday night hangover. I was still an apprentice drinker in those days, so hangovers on a Sunday were a regular feature. And then there were the fucking daft Sunday drinking laws that meant there was a ‘holy hour’ from two until four. I mean to say, what the hell is a bloke to do for two hours? And of course they shut up shop at ten again. Fucking hell! There was no respect for the serious drinker at all at all.
In my earlier working days, Sunday was the day I had to do out my timesheets and my travel and subsistence claims. This called for a great deal of creative accounting, as I never kept accurate records of my mileage for the week, and anyway, my actual mileage wouldn’t have been worth that much. It was a case of thinking of a number between twenty and a hundred, doubling it, adding fifty and then converting it to kilometres [even though the claim was in miles]. Also I had to remember all the places I was supposed to have been during the week, which wasn’t easy as invariably I was at the local pitch and putt, but I couldn’t put that down. Stressful times.
Nowadays, Sunday isn’t much different from the rest of the days of the week. Herself likes the Sunday Times, which means that the day ends with an incredible amount of paper scattered around the place. Each edition must be the death knell for about an acre of trees. I still am not that fond of it though. It’s a sort of dead day, where no one is around and I daren’t go out [apart from fetching the paper] because of all the nut cases going for their Sunday drives.
Of course the big black mark against Sunday was that it was followed by Monday. That doesn’t apply now. Well, of course it does, but Monday doesn’t hold any dread any more, because I don’t have to go to work.
I used to dislike Sunday because it was followed by Monday.
Now I dislike Sunday because it isn’t Monday.