Here's another of those rescued pieces I found last week. I think I was trying to write 300 words a day, just to 'keep my hand in' and I seem to have broached some interesting topics. I don't think my attitude to Mondays has changed much in the intervening period.
Monday mornings have always been a source of confusion. On the one hand they are the start of a new week and should be an opportunity for new and exciting things to happen; but on the other hand they are disconnected from the previous work flow so nothing happens automatically. Two days of relaxation have turned off the brain so that Mondays are a cerebral challenge while the thinking processes grind their way up the gear system in a bid to accelerate to the necessary speed. It can take some time.
In theory, after the weekend, the brain should be rested and fresh, ready for the week ahead, but it is much more often addled with the remnants of last night’s bottle of rosé and dulled by the decision to stay up late watching that TV drama with the gorgeous actor in it. This morning you can’t even remember what the story was about, although you can dimly recall some views of his excellent backside and the fact that he, inevitably, ended up in bed with the female lead so that the scriptwriters have fodder for next week’s episode.
So you stare at the screen throughout Monday morning in the hope that some sort of inspiration will happen, but it rarely does. No amount of cups of coffee will help and it’s instant anyway, because your bosses are such skinflints they won’t buy the real stuff, so you’ll end up dehydrated and regretful by five o’clock but still not awake. Where is the Muse? No doubt sleeping off her own hangover after two days of debauchery with a variety of gods of wine, beer, ciggies and any other intoxicant available on a city’s streets on Saturday nights. There is only one consolation - perhaps Tuesday will be better?