TGIF

Today

On Facebook yesterday a chorus of welcome for Friday, in which I joined. It's curious, really; now that I've been retired for three years, you'd think that the days would simply roll into each other and that we'd ignore the Friday factor. Not so; we still treat Friday night as special. We are less likely to watch telly (unless it's BGT) or work, I'm more likely to cook up a special meal, listen to smoochy music, drink more wine or invite friends over. In fact our (also retired) neighbours came over last night and we put the world to rights over several bottles of wine and real ale until midnight. I'm sure on other nights that we all go to bed earlier and drink less.

And it's different from Saturdays which are for the Big Night Out and more serious socialising.

In My Day

I first heard the expression "TGIF" when I worked in the Inland Revenue's enforcement office. It was used with (eventually boring) regularity by an older officer - an Irishman by the name of Joe Beckett.

When I was a child Friday night meant having Daddy at home. Daddy's job with Hansard entailed late nights the rest of the week; with him returning home at ten pm or later. On Fridays he'd arrive home at about six O'clock. The whole dynamic of the evening was different. Often he would have brought some fish with him - mackerel or herring, which he might cook himself - rolling the fish in porridge oats before frying. I really disliked the fish but that smell could only occur on a Friday. It was also the only time, apart from the occasional Saturday when Daddy would make us a fried breakfast, that Daddy cooked.

There was no school on Saturday, either, so we could stay up a bit later and there might be games or at least very lively conversation and discussions. Friday was so unlike other evenings which were altogether quieter and involved chores and homework.

This attitude to Friday (as distinct from Saturday) spilled over into many areas of life. At the Proms, for example, the avant-garde was saved for the beginning of the week, the big pieces for Saturday. Fridays would offer a night of jolly good, rousing celebratory music, culminating in the traditional Beethoven's Ninth on the penultimate night.

So I think that Friday is now hard-wired, so to speak, into the nation's psyche, and no amount of being retired or working at weekends will change it.