If all else fails and you find yourself falling into the protracted state of almost-Monday-ness, why not try one of these suggestions.
For those that work Monday – Friday, you may find Sundays are a strange kind of animal, especially Sunday afternoons. Once described by Douglas Adams as the Long Dark Tea-time of the Soul, Sunday afternoons stretch before you like the last oasis before crossing the sheer acreage of desert that is the week ahead. Sometimes the afternoon will seep away into nothingness, another Sunday afternoon gone in the blink of an eye, or you will indeed enter the long dark tea-time of the soul.
So, how to avoid the dreaded tea time, and how can the escape of time be prevented on a Sunday afternoon? As with all things, planning is crucial and it is here that I freely admit, I am completely useless, but nonetheless I try and endeavor to arrive at the last outpost of weekend freedom, ready to spend that most precious of commodities wisely. Here are the things you will find me doing on a Sunday afternoon.
Last year my partner, Dominique, and I watched sixteen snooker tournaments (at least). Typically, tournaments begin on Mondays and end on Sundays, the final match spread across two sessions – afternoon and evening.
Sometimes the final match is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of thing and sometimes it goes on into the night, the final frames bothering midnight as the clock ticks and weary-eyed affectionados watch on. On snooker final days, the long dark tea-time of the soul is lost in the infinite void of a deciding frame dominated by safety play and a re-spotted black.
Sci-Fi Sunday presents the absolute zenith of my organizational skills. Three meals spent in front of the TV, sampling some of science fiction’s finest. Sometimes I’ll plan these days to have a loose theme, space-stations, say. Maybe robots. Other times Dom and me will block watch some Babylon 5, or watch as many Star Wars films as possible. With a mountain of munch to get through, we approach sci-fi Sundays with a desire to maximise our nerdiness before the weekend ends.
Sundays afternoons at festivals are the long sticky piss-ups of the soul, and that’s never more true anytime after 1pm. By this time showers are a long distant memory and something that I’d run from, like a dog threatened with a (don’t say it!) B – A – T – H. Festival Sundays are by far the greatest Sundays of all. The magnitude of Mondays hell is therefore greater.
THE LATE WALK
It’s 5pm, the afternoon has drifted by in an agreeable manner and it seems as if there’s nothing left to do but have a shower, make a sandwich and crawl into bed until Monday comes. But then there’s one last cheeky outing, a meander through some darkening woods, a brisk walk to the local beauty spot, or turn around the park as the sun begins to set. Yes Monday morning lurks around the corner ready to threaten your good cheer, but as the sun sinks slowly on the horizon you know that whatever Monday will bring, it’ll be beautiful in it’s own way.
If ever there’s a time when the long tea-time bites especially hard, it’s during those long, awkward hours spent with relatives hearing about their latest holidays / ailments / who died recently. The attention to the conversation vanished shortly after the last pink wafer went to biscuit heaven, there’s nothing left but hope for some sport on Channel 5, because that’s the only channel your relative can get. Suddenly the decision to uninstall the Tetris app raises it regretful head.
THE FAVORITE TV PROGRAM
It’s a game. A cruel, sickening game played on us by program planners who love their jobs. These scheming program schedulers know the vast majority of viewers have to get up for work on Monday, and know they spend the week aching for the weekend, and so for nothing more than cruel kicks, they schedule the best TV show, your most favourite program of all, for 9pm on a Sunday. What kind of twisted people do this? People who know nothing of the hatred and loathing of Mondays. Morning, afternoon, evening has been wished and willed away because last week’s cliffhanger was amazing and 9pm could not come soon enough.
THE NIGHT OUT
Going out on a piss up on Sunday night is nothing more than denial. Along with festival Sundays, it’s by far the most effective way to escape the wretched tea-time.
THE NIGHT IN
The night before there was a get-together, possibly a party. Food and booze left over, enough for a cheeky, private party, in fact. This is denial but done cheaper. It’s also pretty effective.
So there we have it. Of course no Sunday is complete without a good Sunday lunch but by foregoing these I do save on washing up. Which is nice.
Copyright Martin Gregory. 2018.