Mondays and Utility Bills:

by | Feb 20, 2024 | Uncategorized | 0 comments

As Bob Geldof wrote in his dubious tribute to the mass murderer Brenda Spencer

Two things occurred today which, in my previous life, I never really relished. I wouldn’t say I was in a minority in this respect, as you’ll probably agree when I tell you.

The first was that it was Monday 19th February, 2024. The significance, in the context of this tale however, is the first part, Monday…

As Bob Geldof wrote in his dubious tribute to the mass murderer Brenda Spencer who, on Monday 29th January, 1979, killed two pupils and injured nine others in a San Diego Elementary school. Her reason? “I don’t like Mondays.”

I, like Ms Spencer, don’t like Mondays. Or should I say I didn’t like Mondays. I can think of probably a half dozen or so in thirty five years of full time work that I actually enjoyed.

In fact, the day I decided to give up full time work for good was on a Monday. The reason? I forgot my laptop. It went like this…

I worked for the Environment Agency as a Waste Regulatory Specialist. A job created for me as a “Poacher Turned Gamekeeper.” I won’t elaborate. Anyway, after two years, I realised that I hated this role, spying on folks I’d worked with and socialised with personally for years.

This Monday morning in question was particularly stressful for other reasons. Halfway to work on the other side of town, I realised that I’d forgotten my work laptop. I just snapped. I stopped the car, turned around and went home.

The next day, I returned to work, with my laptop and told them I didn’t want to work there any more. A month later, I was delivering meat and pies for Nicholson’s the Butchers in Whitley Bay. Mondays were never the same.

Now, Mondays, like every other day, are a little package of anticipatory delight. Today was no exception.


I said there were two things. The second was that I received my Utility Bill. Yes, that monthly penance one has to pay to be warm and dry, providing you’re lucky to have a roof over your head.

However, like Mondays, this one was a source of joy, having the prefix, “Final”. It would be the last time I would pay directly for gas or electricity in over forty-six years. Since moving into our little flat in Cramlington with my beautiful first wife Stephanie, at the ripe old age of nineteen! I promptly paid it, and assigned that part of my life to history.

So, what’s in store for this Monday? A trip to the beautiful town of St. Pol de Léon and the tiny port of Roscoff. The latter, I’m told, is not just a name on the ferry timetable to Ireland. Tomorrow, I’ll tell you all about it. Meanwhile, here’s the start of a metaphorical tale. All will become clear, sooner or later…


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