Well, I’ve heard of the Winter Blues – this morning though the happy, snappy voice on the radio news told me all about the Sunday night Blues – apparently, 52% of the French workforce  are getting desperatmey depressed on a Sunady night with the though of having to confront a Monday Morning.

So, there are those Monday songs such as “Blue Monday” by New Order or “I don’t like Mondays,” by the Boomtown Rats. I might even consider “Manic Monday” by the Bangles – though they did record some far better songs.

Anyway, back to Sunday nights, and all these depressed French people.

In this house, we are all teachers, and for my part, mother was a teacher, so Monday has always started somewhere in the midst of Sunday afternoon. Preparing lessons, finishing “last minute midnight homework” with my daughter and the absolute worst, whish is “preparing your bag” – which basically meane that you haven’t really prepared your lessons, so you sling about 100 books and a laptop into your bag, hoping that within all of this there is something “teachable” and that come Monday morning, you might just get a flash of inspiration, that might just give you a lesson.

When I think back on Sundays of old, I realize that I have never had a proper, time-wasting, relaxing Sunday. mum was a teacher, so all Sundays were always lost in a hze of lesson preparation and homework and then (contrary to the advice of my mum), I too “accidentally”  and stupidly entered the profession – proof that most teachers are not very intelligent. Well let’s face it – most teachers have parents who are teachers. it seems like a sexual union between members of the profession just serves to propagate the species; Does this happen in any other profession. If postmen get it together with post women, does this make more postmen (or women)?

Anyway, the Sunday night blues in this house starts on a Friday, when we all sit down to dinner and “detail” all the work we have to do through the weekend to be ready for Monday.

I will be the first to admit that the ambient Sabbath morosity is accentuated by activities such as ironing, baths, washing hair and generally wondering what you are going to eat on Sunday night – generally left overs form Sunday Lunch or Saturday night’s dinner.

Actually, Sunday nights are eternal (is there something biblical in this?) As a kid, Sunday nights were baths and ironing. as a kid in 1970’s Britain, we had one bath a week – on a Sunday night, and my mum, if she ever did any ironing, it was always on a Sunday.

I must admit that I hate Sunday evenings, and as much as I try to shake off the sabbath shackles of old, Sunday night still remains the same.

Anyway, today was Monday – the day that I decided to become French (that is another story) and I daresay that Monday night is the best night of the week, because ou are at the end of the day of the worst day of the week – it is now, just a simple journey through until Friday.

Having written this, I would say that my favorite “Sunday” record remains “Pleasant valley Sunday” by the Monkees, because it sums up all those Sundays that I never had. Okay, i’m off to see if my roses are in bloom (and I don’t have a TV in every room).

 

Just to close on the Sunday Blues – those who commissioned the poll said tat the best way to avoid Sunday Blues was to invite friends round on Sunday night and have a few drinks then go for a meal out – total Sunday reality for most families.