Bank Holiday Monday. Day off.
I must remember to be ‘off’ today. I must remember not to get too excited about anything.
No nuclear flashes of wit, artistic inspiration, or anger. Do not try to parse the elements of any knotty problems. Just relax, Davy, and enjoy the ferocious beauty of the world. Take it easy.
Tomorrow, as the cliché so usefully predicts, is another day.
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Some would say that Bank Holidays are bad things. Those evil fat cat bankers do not deserve to have holidays – they should be forced to scrape coal from the pavements, stopping only for a maximum of 39 winks and a few crumbs of unsweetened porridge. I did not realise you were one of them – or do you just live beside a river?
Tomorrow is another day, and so are all the other ones. Well spotted.
I’m not a banker. But I do often have dealings with one or two complete bankers in my day-to-day business activities, if you know what I mean, Josh.
I simply decided to be expedient and use the excuse to shut down for twenty-four hours. Didn’t work, though. I did as much work as I usually do in a normal day. More, in fact.
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