Sunday 12th May

Why is it that even the weekends are such a mad rush ?  How come I am the only bloke in Britain who is too busy to sit down and fall asleep while watching the F.A. Cup Final ?  Why is it that my life has descended into one complication after another ?  Where have the lazy weekends gone?

Time was when I used to buy the Independent on both Saturday and Sunday, and managed to read them almost the whole way through, yes, even the Business and Sports sections.  Okay, I did miss out the Travel stuff, which was nothing but one long advert, and why tease yourself with places you will never visit anyway.  At least you can kid yourself that you might just see the film or play you are reading about, or if not at least you will have some idea when your friends say they have seen it.   Nowadays, I don’t even slow down when passing the Newsagents; I don’t even get itchy fingers; I don’t even crane my neck to read the headlines anymore.

I simply don’t have the time to even think of such indulgence.  Even though I am now down to just four days work a week, there always seems a hangover to complete on Friday (anything to stop me working on the book).  And every weekend we seem to have filled up with jobs to do, gardens to tidy, cars to clean, places to see, people to visit.  And then when that rarest of events occur and a free day (never a whole weekend) opens up, you get a phonecall from a friend, or even worse the doorbell rings and ‘friends’ descend on you.

And so invariably when Monday comes around and I crank up the work machine one more time, slog my way through the tube, grab a latte and almond croissant and when I actually get behind my desk I can at last begin to relax.