When Tuesday Feels Like A Monday

 When Tuesday Feels Like Monday

Have you ever woken up on a Tuesday and felt absolutely convinced it was still Monday?

Not because you forgot what day it was, but because the feeling of Monday hadn’t quite left you yet.

That was exactly my experience this week. Monday had already been chaotic enough, and somehow the emotional hangover carried straight into Tuesday. Even though the calendar clearly said otherwise, my brain refused to move on.

It all started with something small but frustrating: I couldn’t find my keys.

You know that sinking feeling when you start checking the obvious places — the kitchen counter, the hallway table, your coat pocket — and they’re not there? Then the search expands. Bags get emptied. Drawers get opened. The sense of mild panic slowly builds.

Somehow a tiny object like a set of keys can derail the start of an entire day.

As if that wasn’t enough, there was also an unexpected mystery unfolding outside. Water appeared to be leaking into the garden. Not just a little damp patch, but enough to make me wonder if something had gone seriously wrong. My mind quickly jumped to the worst possibilities: broken pipes, expensive repairs, and a long list of problems I didn’t want to deal with.

So Monday became one of those days where small inconveniences pile up just enough to make everything feel heavier than it should.

Eventually, my husband came home and calmly worked through the chaos that had built up in my head. Within a short time, the situation looked very different.

First, the missing keys were found.

Then the mysterious leak was investigated. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything serious at all. It turned out the water was likely coming from a neighbour’s pond rather than a problem on our side. Once that was identified, the issue was quickly sorted.

Just like that, the two things that had been causing stress all day were resolved.

Problem solved.

Except my brain didn’t quite get the memo.

The next morning arrived — Tuesday — but the feeling of Monday lingered. There were no missing keys, no mysterious water, and no actual problems left to fix. Yet mentally, it still felt like the week hadn’t properly restarted.

This is something many people experience without really noticing it. When a day contains several small stressors, your brain can remain stuck in “problem-solving mode.” Even after the problems are resolved, the emotional tension doesn’t immediately disappear.

It’s a bit like a computer running too many tabs in the background. The tasks might be closed, but the system hasn’t fully reset yet.

One small trick that helps is creating a sense of closure. Sometimes it’s as simple as mentally listing the problems and acknowledging they’re finished:

Keys — found.
Leak — investigated and fixed.

It sounds almost too simple, but giving your mind that clear signal of “done” can help it let go.

Another helpful reset is marking the start of the new day with something small and intentional. A cup of tea, a short walk outside, or even just stepping away from your usual routine for a moment can create a mental line between yesterday’s chaos and today’s calm.

Because in reality, Tuesday wasn’t Monday at all.

Monday was the messy day — the one with misplaced keys and mysterious water in the garden.

Tuesday was simply the day after everything had already been sorted out.

And sometimes that’s the best kind of Tuesday you can have.

72 hours in the beautiful city of Florence what should you see ? Florence will truly capture your heart and never let it go , there is something magical about Florence it is such a vibrant city full of art culture food and wine and so very mellow well mellow as an Italian city can get! Florence is known as the birthplace of the Renaissance where there was great wealth and so began a great collection of art between the 14th and 17th century.

It pays to get the Firenze card which allows you to visit as many museums and churches etc as you can mange within the 72 hours . The card is activated as soon as you go on your first visit make sure you get your card from the local tourist information at is 10 Euros cheaper than if you buy it form a museum.

We flew straight into Florence as Mr T wanted to be nearer but there is easy access from Pisa airport and that is where most people fly into. You can get a train direct from Pisa to Florence and the Italian trains are efficient and some even have double - decker carriages.

The Magnificence Of The Medici 

The Medici ruled Florence for 300 years they had a meteoric rise to power and put their money into arts, the churches and monuments and this makes Florence a truly spectacular city.

Make your way to the Palazzo Vecchio which is the main square Piazza della Signoria. Building was started in 1299, the medieval place has a 94 -metre high tower ( which I didn't climb but let my husband and son climb though ). There is a stately room to visit which seats 500 members. The medici used to have their apartments here till the mid -1500s.





Meander then down to the Palazzo Pitti this is where the Medici came to when they had outgrown the Palazzo Vecchio ,The Palazzo Pitti soon doubled from its initial size. From the outside the Palazzo Pitti looks very much like a fortress yet when you're inside this melts away to reveal paintings by Rubens, Raphael Titan and many many more. There are so many fine rooms to see it is a veritable feast upon the eyes and there are often other exhibitions to see when we were there was one on fashion and Italian motor racing.

Right next to the Palazzo Pitti is the Boboli gardens which are fine Italian gardens and they stretch for acres upon acres they are more than just a garden they are an architectural inspiration for Florence.They are the greatest open -air museum there is in the world, they are the gardens they inspired Versailles.





David

You can't come to Florence and not see David and you find this in the Galleria dell' Accademia for almost 370 years this world famous statue stood outside Palazzo Vecchio there is a copy outside there now.




David stands 17 feet tall and weighs in at 6 tonnes and there is a lot more to see around the Galleria dell' Academia too.





Doumo

This is a must and you see tantalising vistas of this almost everywhere you go in Florence we had a view from our hotel L'Orlogia which is not far away.Admire the facade of the Duomo it took them 16  years to complete the famed Dome (in 1436).

 Then go onto the Bargello the oldest building in Florence where you will see works by Michelangelo, Cellini and Donatello’s David. Also here you can see  ceramics ,textiles tapestries and coins also there is an armoury here as well.



This is but a snippet of what you can squeeze in 3 days and if you get the Firenze card which I strongly suggest you do then there is a complete list of all the places you can visit.

Always One Glove Away From a Duel

 I am, at all times, approximately one glove away from issuing a formal duel.

Not for dramatic historical reasons. I have not been insulted in parliament. No one has slandered my family name. Nobody has stolen my horse, my land, or my prized goose.

No.

My duels are reserved for the truly serious offences of modern life.

For example: when I hold a door open for someone and they walk through without saying thank you. Not even a nod. Not even the awkward half-smile people give when they realise they’ve made eye contact with a stranger and now must acknowledge the shared burden of existing.

Just… silence.

They pass through the doorway as if the door opened automatically through the power of advanced architecture.

And in that moment my brain quietly loads the software for 18th-century honour culture.

Internally, I remove a glove.

Very slowly.

The glove is imaginary, obviously, but the intent is very real.

I drop it onto the pavement.

“Sir,” I say in my mind, to the man who has just treated my act of door-holding charity like a natural weather phenomenon, “you have wounded my honour and also slightly my wrist which has now been holding this door for seven full seconds.”

Around us, in my imagination, a small crowd gathers. A pigeon watches with interest. Someone whispers, “Good heavens.”

“Tomorrow at dawn,” I continue, “we meet behind the Tesco Express car park. Pistols at ten paces. Or, if you prefer, a strongly worded conversation about basic manners.”

Queue-related crimes are even more dangerous.

There is something about a queue that feels sacred. It is a quiet social agreement between strangers: we are all suffering together, but we will suffer in the correct order.

When someone casually drifts into the middle of the queue like a confused duck who has wandered into traffic, my brain again reaches for the glove.

I approach them mentally with calm dignity.

“Excuse me,” I imagine saying, “but I believe you have accidentally committed a queue violation of the highest order.”

The glove falls.

Gasps ripple through the imaginary spectators.

“Dawn,” I announce. “Bring a witness and a basic understanding of fairness.”

Of course, in reality, none of this happens.

In reality I simply stand there like a normal human being, smiling politely in that very British way which roughly translates to:

“🙂 I will remember this forever but do absolutely nothing about it.”

But the duel energy remains.

Because modern society runs almost entirely on tiny acts of politeness. Doors held open. Thank-yous exchanged. Queues respected. Escalators exited without stopping dead at the top like someone who has just discovered gravity for the first time.

These are small things, but they are the duct tape holding civilisation together.

Remove too many and suddenly we’re all wandering around supermarkets like confused goats with shopping baskets.

So I will continue holding doors.

I will continue respecting queues.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, a quiet duelling field behind a Tesco Express will remain permanently reserved for anyone who forgets their manners.

I already have the glove ready.

Just in case.

Jack The Cat The Boss Of The House

 Jack the Cat (Also Known as the Real Boss of the House)

Every household has someone who believes they are in charge. Sometimes it’s the parent with the calendar. Sometimes it’s the person who controls the television remote. In our house, however, the true authority is a cat called Jack.

Jack did not exactly arrive with a formal announcement. There was no ceremony, no grand speech. One day he was simply there, exploring corners, inspecting furniture, and behaving as if the entire house had always been his.

Cats have a remarkable ability to do that.

Within a very short time Jack had identified the most important locations in the house. These included the warmest windowsill, the chair that gets the best afternoon sun, and the precise spot on the sofa that guarantees maximum human attention. It was clear that he had conducted a thorough survey of the property.

Naturally, he now considers these places to be officially his.

Morning in our house usually begins with Jack. Not because we have carefully trained him to wake us up, but because Jack believes breakfast should be served at a very specific time and he is extremely committed to maintaining that schedule.

His first method is staring.

If you have never been woken up by a cat staring at you from very close range, it is quite an experience. You slowly become aware that something is watching you, open your eyes slightly, and discover two very determined cat eyes looking directly into your soul.

If the staring does not work, Jack moves on to Phase Two: gentle paw taps.

These are not aggressive. They are polite, persistent reminders that someone has forgotten an important responsibility. Eventually someone wakes up properly and the day begins with the ceremonial opening of the cat food.

Jack supervises this process carefully.

Once breakfast has been served and eaten, Jack begins his daily inspection of the house. This involves walking through each room as though he is checking that everything is functioning correctly.

If someone is working on a laptop, Jack appears almost instantly. He has a special interest in keyboards and seems convinced that the best place for a cat to sit is directly on the keys you are trying to use.

If you move him, he returns.

If you move him again, he returns again.

This is clearly a battle of patience and Jack is very confident in his abilities.

Books are also one of Jack’s favourite targets. Whenever someone sits down to read, Jack approaches with great interest and carefully settles himself directly on the page. Not next to the book. Not nearby. Directly on the exact sentence you were reading.

He is extremely precise.

Craft activities attract him as well. As soon as paper, scissors, or glue appear on the table, Jack arrives to investigate. This is particularly exciting if there are small objects that can be pushed slowly towards the edge of the table.

Cats, as everyone knows, take great pride in gravity experiments.

The fascinating thing about Jack is that he behaves as though all of these activities are his responsibility. He is not simply wandering through the house. He is supervising. He observes everything with quiet concentration, occasionally offering assistance by sitting on the most important object in the room.

Of course, such important work requires regular rest breaks.

Jack takes his rest very seriously. During the day he can usually be found asleep in a variety of locations, each chosen for maximum comfort and warmth. The windowsill is a favourite when the sun appears, although the sofa is also an excellent option.

Freshly folded laundry is perhaps the ultimate prize.

There is something about a neat pile of warm clothes that attracts cats instantly. You can spend twenty minutes carefully folding everything, turn around for two seconds, and when you look back there will be a cat sitting proudly on top of the entire pile.

Jack does this with remarkable speed.

He also sleeps in positions that appear completely impossible. Sometimes he curls up into a tiny ball. Sometimes he stretches across the sofa like a furry ruler. Occasionally he ends up with one paw in the air and his head tilted backwards in a way that makes you wonder how it can possibly be comfortable.

But apparently it is.

One of the nicest things about having a cat like Jack is how naturally he becomes part of everyday life. At first a pet feels like a new addition to the house. Everything is unfamiliar and you spend time learning their habits and personality.

Then slowly, without really noticing, they become part of the routine.

Jack is there in the mornings while the house wakes up. He is there in the afternoon when things are busy. And in the evening, when everyone finally sits down, he usually appears to claim a comfortable spot nearby.

Sometimes he curls up next to someone on the sofa. Sometimes he sits slightly further away, observing the room like a thoughtful little supervisor.

Occasionally he decides that attention is required immediately and walks directly across whoever is sitting down. Cats are not particularly concerned about personal space.

Jack also has strong opinions about doors.

Closed doors are unacceptable. If a door is closed, Jack will sit beside it and look offended until someone opens it. Once the door is opened, he may or may not actually go through it. Sometimes he simply wanted the option available.

This seems to make perfect sense to him.

There are also the mysterious evening moments when Jack suddenly decides that running very fast around the house is an excellent idea. One minute everything is quiet, and the next minute there is a small blur of fur racing down the hallway as though he has remembered an extremely important appointment.

Cats, it seems, occasionally operate on invisible schedules.

Despite all of this chaos, Jack adds something special to the house. Pets have a way of doing that. They bring small moments of humour and comfort into ordinary days.

A cat sleeping in the sun, a quiet purr while you sit on the sofa, or the sudden appearance of a furry supervisor on your keyboard can completely change the mood of a day.

Jack may not help with the cooking, the cleaning, or the writing, but he is always nearby when these things happen.

And every household could probably benefit from a supervisor who occasionally falls asleep halfway through the

Board games were one of my great childhood joys… and one of my greatest terrors

Board games were one of my great childhood joys—and one of my greatest terrors. I adored the click of dice, the scramble of pieces on the board, the thrill of a close finish. But every time my mum sat across from me, all of that joy came wrapped in dread. She didn’t cheat—but she played like losing wasn’t an option, and winning wasn’t complete without absolute mastery. They say you learn through losing, but her version of victory taught me just how painful—and isolating—that lesson could feel.

So, what’s it like to return to the world of board games as an adult? In many ways, it feels like stepping into familiar yet strangely new territory. The memories of childhood game nights, full of tension and high stakes, bubble back to the surface. But this time, I’m an adult—no longer the fearful child at the table, yet still, at times, haunted by the ghost of those old anxieties. My mother’s competitive spirit looms large. If I so much as mentioned I had a copy of Dungeons and Dragons, I’d be accused of trying to summon the devil—or perhaps just channeling an 80s-inspired look with bad haircuts and thick, obligatory NHS glasses.

Returning to board games as an adult can be a deeply emotional experience, often bringing a mixture of nostalgia, anxiety, and freedom. The excitement of revisiting old favorites clashes with a more grown-up understanding of the world—and what it means to truly enjoy a game, win or lose. If you were like me, the game’s outcome once felt like life or death; now, with some distance, it’s more about fun, strategy, and camaraderie. It’s a journey from competition to connection, from anxiety to enjoyment. But I can’t help but wonder: has the meaning of "winning" evolved, or is it still lurking under the surface?