days

Where Every Day Is Everyone’s Birthday

One thing sure to boggle my mind is an extraordinary planetary fact, and I forgot to mention one picked up from the podcast about planet Venus.

A day on Venus is slightly longer than its year.


The image is a Gif made to illustrate the Transit of Venus last seen from Earth on 8th June 2004 – basically stop-frame animation. The online app – ezgif.com – also allows resizing the finished image. This avoids having to use the WP image editor which rarely works well for me. Time permitting, I could refine it but…life’s too short.

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Is it Saturday?

I keep thinking it’s Saturday. My daemon-angel, who sits on either shoulder quite randomly, constantly berates me on it being Friday! I apologise but it just feels like a Saturday.

A Saturday. Like days not only possess an identity but share it with every previous and successive seventh day. Can this be true? Surely it’s an artifice. I remember when castaway, Robinson Crusoe, fell too ill to mark off the diurnal notches on his timber, he wasn’t certain how many days had passed. So he had a stab at it being Sunday, so when he found Friday, it might have only been Thursday.

Man Thursday. I don’t know about you but that conjures up an entirely different kind of guy. Not a wiley servant but an erudite, scholarly type;

I say, Crusoe, that’s not how one should build a fire. My good fellow, see, it’s far too big for roasting a goat and far too small for a rescue beacon. And the calorific property of coconut palm wood is so unsuitable…

But Man Monday! What a shifty, miserable pessimistic bugger he would have been.


Do you know on which day of the week you were born? If not, you can google it.

There is that old nursery rhyme I had in a book of children’s rhymes which my mum or gran would recite from,

Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go.
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child works hard for a living,
But the child born on the Sabbath Day,
Is fair and wise and good and gay.

Luckily, I am Tuesday’s child and get off quite lightly, not too badly and none of the other terrible impositions. I can live with that. The earliest evidence of this rhyme isn’t that far back in history, just around 1835. It probably had a literary provenance rather than folklore, possibly the associations between character and birth day were made simply for the best rhymes.


image: “football outside Jakarta” by Robert Collins via Unsplash.com

Google the day of your birth

Days For The Diary

My rolling subscription to Ordnance Survey maps brought to my attention that this coming 30th September will be the inaugural National Get Outside Day here in the UK.

There seems to be a day dedicated to everything and anything you care to think of (just think of something and google it adding “day” to the end, you’ll see. And there is a day especially for blogging – Blog Action Day, 3rd November – a date for your diary.)

Given that there are trillions of things imaginable and just 365 days in which to do them, it’s clear there’s going to be days shared by several celebrations, commemorations, endeavours and activities. I trust there’s at least someone keeping a register to prevent a conflict of interest. I mean, you don’t want Get Outside Day to fall on the same 24 hours as Stay In Bed All Day Day, now would you?


Blog Action Day (3rd November)

National Get Outside Day (30th September)

Stay In Bed Day (16th September)

Thinking about…

Indie Shops

My Twitter feed also informs me about #recordstoreday.

Despite there being just 365 days available, odd folk in strange committees can’t be dissuaded from assigning a special day for everything conceivable under the sun. Or so it seems.

(okay, they redeem themselves a little with the upcoming Star Wars Day, May the 4th.)

By “record store”, I’m assuming they mean so-called “indies”. Indies, we are shaped to think of as the contemporary Davids of commerce, standing in defiance of the chain Goliaths, those Philistines of the high street hell-bent on plundering our hard-earnt, in exchange for inferior services. I’m not so sure…

Of course, I’m no expert in any of this and all I’m about to say is just based on my experience as a shopper over the years, something I can’t say on balance I’ve enjoyed too much. But needs must.

Independent traders (actually, I have been one of these, albeit for a relatively short time in the past). Their priorities are, in order; profit, product, customer. I mean, it would be foolish to enter business if not to make money; independents usually care profoundly about the product they sell (think records or books, two good instances); the customer, well, they can be a bit of a nuisance can’t they, but where else is the money to come from?

Big retailers. Their priorities, in order, look more like; profit, customer, product. Profit first, obviously, but the love of product isn’t anywhere near as evident as the love of profit, so the customer, the source of all profit making sales, naturally comes second.

Not convinced? All I know is the many times I’ve returned goods, for good reasons, I’ve nearly always had a better experience with the big boys than the independents. It’s not that they like you, any more than the indie does. It’s because they’re not precious about the product, and so much so that they’re blind to business being essentially about numbers. The more, the more, the more…..etc.

The customer is always right and the no-quibble guarantee. Maybe a day for such as these.