Normally, around this time on a Sunday evening, I’d be feeling depressed at the end of my weekly fragment of freedom. It’s not that I don’t enjoy my job. It’s actually good fun, most of the time. It’s just the problem of being powerless, having to get up and go to some arbitrary location at an arbitrary time, which is emphasised by the shift from two days of freedom to five days of timetable enslavement. After all, no one likes Mondays, do they?