Monday is a testing time; the remnants of the weekend past are in the air, the memories of freedom and joy that only two days away from work can bring, still fresh. Yet the prospect of five long days blur the future weekend almost out of sight completely.
As if this wasn’t bad enough, this 5 day struggle which seems so outrageously disproportionate to the mere 2 days of relaxation, as if that was not enough to make you give up on Monday morning altogether; we are then faced with the hell on earth that is the commute.( For more rants and raves on commutes click here)
Monday’s are when people hit the snooze button 5 times, then have to RUN to the station only to find out that SW Trains have once again canceled 5 trains and delayed a further 6, because and I quote “It’s a bit windy today”.
And when the train arrives it’s got like 2/5 of a carriage resulting in what are normally civilized people regressing to a Neanderthal state, and beating each other to deaths with wet umbrellas, just to get onto the train.
When, even though there are a million ticket barriers only 3 are working, and when you reach one that is, you get stuck behind that colossal twat who has forgotten the ‘card out before you reach the barrier’ rule and is now doing the ‘oyster card pat down dance’. (If you have never seen that dance, you are the aforementioned collosal twat doing it.)
Monday mornings are when it never rains, but it fucking pours. And you’ve forgotten your bloody umbrella.
And it is on a Monday morning that when you think it can’t get any worse, when you finally reach the office after doing over an hours battle with Network Rail and TFL.
Only when you put your bag down, take your coat off and sit down in your chair, taking a moment to get over the trauma of the journey.
Only then does it suddenly start to sink in, oh the horror.
Someone has adjusted YOUR CHAIR.