Monday Morning Blues …

The Monday Morning Blues is upon me, once again. Looking down the road, as far as the eye can see, the constant stream of moving cars flows like a procession at a state funeral. Intermittent flashes of red light dance and prance about majestically as brake lights are called into action: the traffic lights are shouting stop!

To the right, a pastoral event unfolds: Jersey cows munching on brown grass; flowerbeds blowing in the gentle twilight breeze; a quintessential rural scene meets and greets my eye. A mob of horses, still in a state of reverie after their evening slumber, is lying in a field; slowly they rise, looking skyward at the gothic spectacle above, as fluffy grey clouds spread out to all four corners of the sky, like a duvet suffocating a mattress.

Alas, this rural reverie doesn’t last, as my gaze falls upon a metallic-grey phallic-like symbol that towers into the air: the imperative commands: Stop! Danger! High voltage! remind me that this is suburbia. The escalator of cars is moving again – climbing out of the valley and onto higher ground. As I glance at the angst on the drivers’ faces, I realise that we are brothers and sisters in arms; yes, we are all suffering from the same old Monday Morning Blues.

About Sean

I live in my own thoughts, chat to imaginary friends, and survive primarily on Snickers and Nescafe. I work full-time and study part-time for a BA in English Literature with the OU. Home is the North West of England, and my heroes are those authors that can make miracles out of paper and words…… “The man who does not read has no advantage over the man who cannot read.” – Mark Twain.
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