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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Has Ol’ Robbo mentioned here before his strongly-held opinion that Tuesday is the worst day of the week?  Well, it is.   Indeed, to me it’s not even really a day, more like a hole that has to be navigated between Monday (which at least has the past weekend in its rearview mirror) and Wednesday (from atop the hump of which the next weekend can first be seen.***)

So, there.

 

**I looked up the Gels’ birth dates to make sure I wasn’t going to catch hell for this.  The younger two were both Mondays, “fair of face”.  Very accurate.  Eldest was a Wednesday, “full of woe”.  I wouldn’t call her that, exactly, but she does need a firm hand.

***Typing this out brought back to Ol’ Robbo’s mind a vision from the days in which he travelled back and forth between the ‘rents’ place on Hilton Head and his law schooling at Dubyanell:  Travelling north on I-77 in North Carolina, somewhere past Statesville one comes over a rise and first glimpses the Blue Ridge off in the distance ahead.  I always loved that moment.

 

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