Thursday, day of woe.

Thursday, Thursday, most hated of days! Why are Thursdays so tricky? Is it because it's just one more day between you and the weekend? I don't begrudge the working week, particularly, but by Thursday I'm tired and simply waiting for the magic of Friday. Is it because historically crappy things happen on Thursday (freak rain storms, broken shoes, losing travel card, arguments and the big one, death) or, is is an irrational prejudice, like any other?

No

Thursdays ming! Thursdays may even suck.

It started when I was 15, late for school, it was drizzling of course, I believe it was that thankless part of Winter after Christmas. It was bleak and cold and even looking up to the sky requires considerable resilience. I had survived, I had made it to school, in the snot-coloured uniform. I was working away during CDT, Craft, Design Technolgy, a subject so grandiose it could only fail to disappoint, for we learnt next to nothing about craft or design and technology wasn't even mentioned. Anyway, dutifully carving up pieces of wood for no good reason, I was demonstrating a keen eye for turns on the ban saw. Quietly going about my business. When I looked down and saw the ring finger of my left hand ON the blade. There was blood.

The purity of my wood had been compromised.

Without wanting to turn anyone's stomach, it was a mere superficial wound and certainly looked worse than it was. That said, blood on the floor is never a good sign in a room full of metal so I turned to a classmate and sighing flashed the bleeding limb-ette. She took over, grabbed the teacher and I was made to sit down for the rest of the class, elevating the luckless finger to let the bleeding abate.

I was more annoyed than hurt as I realised with a stab of spite that this simply would not have happened on any other day.

I still have a small scar and whenever something merdique happens on a Thursday I contemplate the white line of vindication and feel somewhat reassured: It's not me. It's Thursday.