I awake, it's six-thirty, got to get up. Why didn't my alarm go off? I push back the quilt in an overly-enthusiastic manner, watch it fly through the air, hit the alarm clock off the bedside table. Maybe there isn’t someone breaking into my flat every day and putting my clock-radio on the floor. And maybe there’s a very good reason why the alarm’s not going off.
Jump out of bed and walk to the shower. And then I realise. It‘s Sunday! Go back to bed and rest my head back down on the pillow I should never have left. Why should I care about making a stupid mistake, when I have quality hours of inactivity to enjoy.
I'm feeling remarkably well considering the amount of alcohol I consumed last night. I think I may have beaten the evil that is a post-Saturday night hangover. I lift the clock radio off the floor and turn the radio on. Nicky Campbell's voice asks some overly elaborate question to a politician, that if deciphered into normal English, would probably read "You're a wanker aren't you what makes you think you‘re clever enough to talk to me?"
I am a little confused. Campbell presents the Breakfast show Monday to Friday, it seems a little over keen that he should be confusing his interviewees and listeners on Sunday as well.
What with Campbell being on the radio, me not having a hangover, coupled with the fact that it was Sunday yesterday, it really doesn't feel like a Sunday morning at all. Shit!
I throw off the cover, and watch it narrowly miss the alarm clock. Have a shower, grab two slices of bread and throw them in the toaster. Two minutes pass, and a couple of really burnt slices of bread jump out off the toaster, which I quickly throw away, bung another two in adjust the settings and two minutes later two even more burnt pieces of toast jump out. This time I make sure I adjust the toaster anti-clockwise and throw in my final two pieces of bread. Time is running low so I clean my teeth, rush back, grab the perfectly toasted bread, spread on some butter, and eat a mouthful of Colgate flavoured toast and throw the rest away.
I walk outside and look for my car. I remember I picked it up yesterday after leaving it outside the pub on Saturday afternoon. Then I remember I didn't pick it up yesterday after leaving it outside the pub on Saturday afternoon. I start the long walk to a pub at half-seven on a Monday morning.
Driving off, flicking between radio channels, and everyone tells me it’s Monday. I know! I get it now.