Today was a bank holiday, and in all my 19 years on earth, I still don’t know when bank holidays are or why they exist. I’m not complaining though, a day off is a day off.
Bank holidays are always a little bit weird, you wake up later than usual, almost jetlagged muttering to yourself that you must “remember it’s Monday” but inevitably forgetting it’s Monday 20 minutes later as you tell everyone you see it’s Sunday and as they correct you, having to say “it doesn’t feel like a Monday does it.” Today at one point I actually thought it was boxing day, which considering it’s bloody May is a bit odd.
My bank holiday was spent doing some classic bank holiday activities, eating, watching television, baking, eating the cupcakes I baked and going out for a “lovely long walk” today’s walk being around a farm shop which is quite possibly one of the most middle class things I’ve ever done. It is fun though isn’t it, knowing there’s an extra day in the weekend. This meant I was able to come home for the bank holiday which was really lovely as usual.
Now, as the bank holiday draws to a close you remember it’s “back to normal” tomorrow and the complaining begins. Every bank holiday is the same, no one remembers it’s a normal day the next day, until about 4pm when everyone in unison get’s depressed and starts counting down the days till Friday. Which remember is in four days because it’s a Monday.