Nothing to be said, really

Last week flew by on the bewinged feet of Mercury.

This week has trudged by like me, stuck in a particularly boggy bog in a pair of ill fitting Wellingtons.

Why is that?

Maybe it’s because half term is so close, and I dream, positively dream, of not being held captive to other people’s time tables, and so the minutes tick by sloooowly, because mainly they are bastards.

Today, for example, has lasted for about 72 hours already, and shows no sign of buggering off.

It has also been one of those weeks where we seem to have had about eighteen Wednesdays, no Thursdays to speak of, and a few more Mondays than is entirely advisable.  It is interesting that we are supposed to be such a rational race, and yet if I say something like: ‘It feels like Tuesday again’, in the playground, there are sage nods, and not one person says: ‘What do you mean? How can that possibly be?’

Tell me. It is Friday tomorrow isn’t it?

Please let it be so.

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