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Do slugs get jealous of snails because they're never without a roof over their heads. Or do snails look enviously at slugs, wishing they didn't have to carry this bloody big house on their backs for eternity?
It's funny the things that come into your mind when you're stressed.
Like: which day of the week is your favourite and which do you like least? If you're a killer, you may not like Mondays, as the Boomtown Rats told us. Monday is also the day you are most likely to have a heart attack, with Sunday being not far behind. Suicide risk is also on highest on Mondays, along with New Year's Day.
I've been pondering this because I heard someone say on TV that their favourite day of the week is Wednesday. It's taken the name Hump Day because people recognise it as the middle of the working week, headed towards the weekend and, therefore, over the hump – presumably, traditionally, the worst of it.
I have a particular penchant for Thursday. When I lived in London, Thursday was always the best night, when everyone came out to play before going away for the weekend. I also enjoy Friday lunchtimes, particularly when I'm in Cardiff, as it's the day every older woman in the city has her hair done and for some reason decides to wear her most gaudy sequined party dress to drink gallons of Prosecco in the brasserie Le Monde. It's not a lunch; it's a procession.
Saturdays can be mixed. I love my sport – tennis and rugby, in particular, though I am also partial to snooker and darts. I can usually find something to amuse myself, and if I can't, there's always back-to-back Murder, She Wrote on Channel 5. I've seen them all, dozens of times over, but there's just something comforting about curling up on the sofa and seeing Jessica Fletcher bumping off at least another three people an hour (come on: we all know she's done them all. Most successful serial killer in murder history).
But I hate Sundays. And I mean really, really hate them. When I was young, they weren't so bad, especially when, as teenagers, we had After Church Fellowship in the evening and 'snogged' each other. We all rather liked God back then.
As an adult, I've never found it anything other than desperately lonely.