There is something very unsatisfying about working on a bank holiday.
Now don’t get me wrong, there are an awful lot of worse things you could be doing than working on a public holiday. Not having a job, for instance, would be considerably worse. So just to be clear on this –
I’m certainly not complaining. Much. Maybe just a small chunter – but nothing more than that.
It’s just a bit unsatisfying that’s all.
I mean look at my tube train last week.
See – it’s just so wrong.
Who wants to have all that space? A choice of seats and absolutely nobody’s crappy music within earshot? Rubbish! That photo was taken at 07:30 on a Monday morning and look at it! I couldn’t even smell anybody. Where’s the fun in that?
I certainly hope it won’t be like that this week.
Seeing everyone’s grumpy expressions as they squash in next to me and try to educate me in the world of Hipperty-Hop through their malfunctioning earphones, is much more like it.
There’s nothing like the smell of rancid armpit to set you up for a good week’s work.