I can’t believe how quickly the time is flying by. I am now on my 20th day of not smoking and also not drinking. It’s Friday already and yet again I am dreading the weekend. Fridays at work used to be quite relaxing, almost therapeutic. I usually spend Friday afternoon avoiding any work that might risk me having to stay any later than four o’clock even though I finish at five. I was going to suggest to my line manager that we accept the utter futility of Friday afternoons and replace the usual routine of doing nothing with something more constructive like art classes or P.E. It’s not that off the wall when you think about it I mean the Japanese do all that Tai Chi or whatever, we could have pottery classes or watercolour lessons, something quintessentially British. I’m sure it will increase productivity.
Anyway I’m getting off the point here. I find my mind wandering a lot lately usually meandering off toward a negative analysis of my life. Any extra time on my hands just seems to be spent anxiously worrying. I still haven’t come up with a weekend pursuit or hobby to look forward to like everyone else seems to have. I may have to make one up. I’m pretty sure everyone lies about how fantastic their weekends are anyway. I overheard Mike in accounts explaining that last weekend he had some friends over to enjoy a dish of char-grilled langoustines and a nice glass of Provencal rose. Utter bull****! I know he spends his Friday nights getting pre-loaded on a bottle of own-brand vodka before going down the Duke of Cumberland to get wasted with his borderline alcoholic mates. I know this because I happen to be one of them!