The Blessed Bank Holiday Morning
The treat of an unusual morning off. The blessed, wonderful knowledge that tonight – the feast, the indulgence, the excess – will be followed by a morning in bed. The alarm snoozed. The hangover quietly slept through.
The time to fry some bacon and quietly convince your stomach to keep that much-needed salt and fat down, rather than a rushed morning; a precarious bus journey; putting on a brave face for 9am. You would forgive a war criminal in exchange for that morning off. A monster.
For a queen? An unelected monarch? A benign but ideologically objectionable symbol of a system wrought with class, privilege, prejudice, wealth and status? For this morning… fine. That’s just fine.