It’s the weekend, but I’m at work. Hence “workend”.
Yeah, I know. I was also impressed.
Experimental protocols are no respecters of the 5-day working week. Actually, scrub that: they are if I write them. I work around the difficult concepts of “weekdays” and “weekends”, and the work still gets done. This one wasn’t written by me though, and that’s why I’m in the lab at 7:30 on a Saturday morning.
Yes, I know that some people work weekends, and I’m very lucky to only have to come in for a few hours this morning. But I’ve been there, I’ve done that. I worked in the NHS for 9 years and even if you’ve never been to the UK, the Daily Mail has told you just how much that workforce gets routinely shafted (fairly equally under both a Conservative and a Labour Government, for the record).
So I’d kind of hoped that I’d done the hard yards in the respect, like I’d moved on, settled down and could spend cold, winter Saturday mornings snuggling up in bed with a warm wife and no beagle.
But other people who write experimental protocols are no respecters of the 5-day working week.
DJI Mavic Pro.
I’m determined to do stuff this weekend. Watch this space.
(Spoiler: I’m probably still in bed.)
A bit of an odd one. It seemed busy, but still rather relaxed. The jobs list was approached, but not really ever adequately dealt with, meaning a chore-related hangover for next weekend.
There were two braais, although neither of them were the one we thought we were going to. There was beer, gin, vodka and there was wine, although it wasn’t actually one of those weekends.
There were two seven hour playdates, leaving the kids happy, but broken.
There was a spot of flying, but not as much as I wanted and not where I wanted. I need to find an accurate map of just what is owned by Table Mountain National Park and what isn’t. I need details.
South Africa has 2,798 km of coastline, but the vast majority around us seems to be owned by TMNP. Their no-fly rule (which I’ve stated before that I completely accept) still proves limiting.
Anyway – photos:
…because one should always make the best of a bad situation.
And so to bed. Well, not quite. There is some football to catch up on and some brandy to add to the list of beverages above.
Because all’s well that ends well, right?
Weekends, hey? They’re great.
In fact, the only issue with weekends is their blatant lack of length. Two days. Two. That’s all you get for slogging your arse off for the rest of the week. It seems distinctly unfair. It is distinctly unfair. It’s rubbish.
I took a step back and tried to look at this two day weekend concept with fresh eyes. It still looked unfair and rubbish, but I wasn’t about to give up on my dream of changing the status quo, even if just for a short while.
What if… what if you were to add a day to the weekend, extending it from two days to three days? That’s a 50% increase. I’ve found that Friday seems to be a good day for this, so what I’ve done is added Friday to my weekend this week.
But wait, there’s more. It was as I sat back, basking in my success, that I realised that three days was actually also a bit crap. Still below that threshold of “half the week”, which sits at three and a half days. But what to do? Simples. Add another day. If you add Monday to the weekend mix as well, it has several pleasing effects:
1. It now means that your weekend numbers four days. That’s a full 100% increase on the previous, “normal” duration of the weekend.
2. Four days is more than three and a half days. I’d cracked the “more than half the week” thing.
3. The week which I took the Friday from was now just four days long. That’s the same length as my weekend. AND…
4. The week which I took the Monday from was also now just four days long.
That’s two four day weeks, separated by a four day weekend.
This is how life should be.
I know that not everyone will have the luxury of constructing a four day week/four day weekend/four day week megacombo. So here’s my offer to you. You may – should you so choose – live vicariously through me. Because I’m doing it and I’m starting
And I’m going to take photos.
… and actually that’s it. What on earth were you expecting?
It’s been a busy weekend, Chez 6000. Loads of little niggly jobs got done, which was great, but niggly.
What’s left of the garden (remember those water restrictions?) got a bit of much-needed attention. It’s looking good (ish) all things considered.
We planted a lemon tree, because when life gives you a lemon tree, you… plant it. Especially as it’s not very water wise, so there will be nothing to make lemonade out of anyway.
United scraped home against a 9-man Shrewsbury Town. Eish.
We braai’ed and, as is usual when we braai, I drank ever so slightly too much red wine.
I’m going to order a drone tomorrow. I think the pain of Lily needs to be exorcised.