Four day weekend, but in reality I got the bad end of the deal, I got two Sundays in a row. Two nights of singing the melancholic blues. I was a little kid on school holidays who follows their mum round the house saying "I'm bored", but any suggestion from their mother, no matter how good is not good enough! On a sunday you never seem to get the usual heavy eyelids when reading your book. Your mind is a jumble with stupid, insignificant thoughts on rotation.. going round and around with no solution or reason in sight and then in the morning you think to yourself "what the hell was I thinking?"
Things achieved on my double wammy sundays... ummmm spanish lesson: tick
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