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July 30th 2009

    This morning there was difficulty determining the day of the week.  I thought it was Tuesday.  The wife, for a moment, thought it was Friday or possibly Thursday.  I had mislaid the eyeglasses so I could not read the atomic clock.  She, adroit as ever, searched a computer for data.  

   In the dawning time of manufacture, there was a day called Saint Monday.  The factory was looming ominous-ness, still an idea in the mind of salivating Kapital.  Workshops better describe the scale of enterprise in the early days of the modern world.  Scattered like seeds across green hills, belching nervous moments as useful things were made.

    

    

    Back then, Pay was irregular.  A master, managed his workshop through force of personality.  When Pay did happen, the less disciplined would take off to the bars and wooing and sometimes not be back until Wednesday or Thursday.  

    For a while there was Saint Tuesday and for the especially contented crew there was Saint Wednesday.  But increasingly, because of competition and the demands of bankers these special circumstance days were eroded.

    Saint Monday, however, remained for a long time.  Then when it was gone the Industrial Revolution was made. 

    Today is apparently Thursday.

tim candler

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(Francis Grose)