Chapter - ONE


Wake up! It’s not a dream, it really is Monday. Of all the days in the week, I’d say Monday is one hell of a crappy day. There’s always a lot of paperwork sitting waiting for you at work, mostly because everyone rushes out on Fridays, thinking that Monday will never come. But ha-ha - it always sneaks up on you. It’s not like Monday is new or anything, as I've been having them for twenty eight years. But I still get a deep pang of distress and turn into a wreck once the clock hits three o’clock on Sunday afternoon, mostly because I remember all the things I should have done over the weekend.

List of things I should have done over the weekend but didn’t bother!
1) Do very over-due laundry; I’m always running out of ‘small essentials’ like Bridget Jones style knickers
2) Withdraw some cash from the bank on Saturday morning; I somehow always forget my pin number. This makes it my third swallowed card within 2 months. I could avoid all this by writing my pin on a piece of paper, but they tell you not to write your pin down. They didn’t say anything about adding a fake contact called ‘pinny’ on your mobile! . No-one would ever guess – right?
3) Buy fresh packed-lunch ingredients; frankly I could do with spending less money for lunch. But why do I even bother as never make the damn lunch in the first place, and by the time I remember, the ‘use by’ date seems to have already passed. Oh well, I’ll try harder next week. Who am I kidding I’ve made lunch before but someone how forgot deliberately to eat it. I mean who has time for that when there’s a perfectly better option called ‘wagamama’.

Maybe my full blown hatred for packed lunches came from when mother had just learned how to make an ‘English Sandwich - Nigerian style’. Her own version included a very generous amount of Maggi Cubes (a very salty seasoning) and nutmeg. I mean she couldn’t just leave it at using cheese, lettuce, cabbage, cucumber and dressing. She would look quite chuffed with herself as she produced a batch big enough for a party. The foil-wrapped sandwiches managed to find refuge in my younger brother Nathan’s back-pack, who would dutifully take a handful of mother’s carefully prepared delights daily. Everyone knows that you’re not supposed to eat ‘foiled’ lunches at school when others have theirs sealed in an air-free bag; it just isn’t done! He’d come back from school each day and thank mother for her wonderful sandwiches and she’d smile with glee and adoration for her son who chose to eat the sandwiches that neither myself nor Chiaka [chi-ya-ka], my older sister would touch. It was all going well until one day when mother was removing Nathan’s sports kit from his bag, behold a pile of mouldy sandwiches fell out. I never quite understood why he didn’t throw them out at the end of each day. What was he saving them for?

It’s as if Mondays taunt me about how close they are. Like that sweet scent of barbecued meat to an uninvited guest, which has happened to me on occasion! I console myself that my special invite has been lost in the post.

So I really hate Mondays except Bank Holidays; then the day’s move up one place.
But take Thursdays, now that’s my kind of day. I’m brimming with smiles and swagger as I know it’s nearly the end of another working week; almost like crossing the finishing line on sports day. Plus it’s unofficially the last day of the working week (no need to let HR into this secret that no-one really does much work on Friday!).