The weekend, for most working folk, is a mere two days long. Trudging along to their jobs, Monday to Friday, from 9am until 5pm. If you're lucky, because these days it seems as though people are working until 5.30pm as a minimum, unless you're some kind of tradesman that finishes at 3pm, but then they have to get up at 5am and who wants that? What happened to the eight hour work day? That was invented for a reason. Eight hours each for work, sleep, and leisure time. Now, you're lucky if you get three hours of free time after work, what with overtime, and long commutes. Then by the time you do actually collapse in the door after standing all the way home on the train, next to a middle-aged woman with no sense of personal space, whose giant handbag hits you in the stomach every time the train moves, you are too tired to do anything other than order Uber Eats and stare at Netflix until it becomes so late that you force yourself to go to bed, so that you don't almost ...
Some thoughts on TV, and comedy, and books, and travel.