Fridays are, without doubt, man’s best creation. Nothing quite beats the feeling of finishing work for the day and heading home for two days of work-free bliss. What is slightly more alarming as I nose dive ever closer to the pit of the thirtieth year of my life, is the regularity with which I get ‘that Friday feeling’.
The weeks are flying past. It is genuinely alarming how quickly one weekend blends into the next -where does all that time go?
This blog post can go one of two ways; I could rejoice in how the seemingly rocket-propelled passing of time is going to see us out of the recession quicker than a blink of an eye or, and more predictably, I could delve into the lower reaches of my psyche and wrench out the overwhelming thought of death’s door dragging ever closer.
Sod that, though. It’s Friday. Beer anyone?
